Even the Strongest Fall—Part 2: Into the Depths
by tenjounotora
Summary: Even the Strongest Fall: A series of stories exploring PTSD in the family. Part 2: Gordon Tracy — Gordon was involved in a horrible accident, he shouldn't have survived. He did, he healed, and now it is time for International Rescue to start operations, but Gordon still has some demons he's trying to fight and he's not sure if he'll win.
1. Fear of the Goal

Chapter 1: Fear of the Goal

The water was cool as it enveloped him. His legs tight together, they started to kick in a smooth metered pace—up and down, up and down, forcing his body through the water as fast as he could. He slowly rose to the surface, the water racing past him as he pulled his hands from where they started in front of him down, trying to grasp as much water as he could and pushed himself forward. He brought his arms up, over his head, and then back in the water for another push, this time pushing his body out of the water to fly above it. He took in a quick lungful of air before bending his head and diving back into the water with his arms ready for another pull and push. Again he flew above the water and dived back in. Over and over he did this, sailing over the water then gliding underneath. The wall of the pool loomed before him, and he reached out with his hands, flipped and pushed off of it, sending him deeper into the pool, allowing his arms a moment of rest as his legs propelled him forward. Then, once again his arms pushed him forward, up over his head, and then pulled and pushed again, sending him flying over the surface.

He rammed into the wall and burst from the surface gasping for air. He leaned his head on the cold cement before him, breathing deeply, trying to gain control of the burning in his lungs. That had been the first time in a long while since he had swum one-hundred meters doing the butterfly stroke. It had been his goal though—at least the one he had told his therapists about.

They had been hesitant, had tried to get him to reconsider. After all eight vertebrae had been damaged, some even crushed. His right femur was cracked, the fibula and tibia broke in half. His left fibula and tibia were also broken. His right radius and ulna as well. It was a surprise his left arm had went undamaged. Broken nose, concussion, and internal bleeding in addition to all that. Then a twelve hour surgery to attempt to reassemble, or in a few cases replace the damaged pieces of vertebrae without damaging the spinal cord more than it already had been. Later, more surgeries where bolts and rods were put into his legs to try and fix those breaks that had not been clean. He had worn a halo to keep his neck straight for almost six months, had just gotten that off—and he wanted to swim.

Swimming was actually good therapy for the type of injuries he had. But not the butterfly and not swimming one-hundred meters as fast as he could. They tried to get him to choose something a little easier to start with, but his mind had been made up.

Gordon looked up at his therapist, who squatted at the edge of the pool looking down at him, the stopwatch in his hand. "How… did… I… do?" He was still out of breath. That had been a lot harder than he had hoped.

"Two minutes thirty seconds."

Gordon groaned and flopped back into the water, floating on his back.

"Hey, I thought you did pretty good." His therapist stood and sat down on the starting block. "I mean, no, it's nowhere near your world record, but after what you went through, this is pretty damn amazing."

Gordon righted himself and swam back over to the wall, he put his hands up on the edge and tried to pull himself up onto the side of the pool, but couldn't. He frowned and cursed to himself before trying again. This time the therapist reached down and grabbed his arm, helping him up onto the side. "Thanks." He sat for a moment looking at his hands before looking up at the man on the starting block. "Forty-nine point eight two."

"I'm not familiar with that number."

"That was the record set by Michael Phelps in two-thousand and nine."

"The record you beat?"

Gordon had his chin up and his back straight. "The record I destroyed by two point one eight seconds."

"But not something you need to get to again, is it?" They both jumped and turned to the voice. Virgil was leaning against the wall just outside of the locker rooms, his arms crossed. "Unless you were secretly planning to train for the Olympics again that is."

Gordon smiled and leaned back on his hands. "Nah, I have other plans, but I do need to be in top shape regardless."

The brothers both broke out in grins as Virgil pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the pool—the sound of his bare feet echoing in the empty natatorium.

"Well, as far as your recovery goes, you have out performed anything we imagined you would. In fact I was going to be satisfied if you could do a hundred meters at any time, let alone in just over two minutes."

"I told you I would." Gordon smiled and ran his hand through his wet hair.

"Yes you did."

Virgil sat down on the starting block of the next lane and dipped a toe into the water. "This kid is always surprising us. Tell him he can't swim before he can walk and he does. Tell him he can't train for the Olympics and he does anyways. Tell him there's no way he'll qualify and he does. Tell him it's impossible to break a record that has been holding strong for fifty years, and he does."

"Fifty-one."

"Huh?"

"It was a fifty-one year old record." Gordon looked smug, but then had every right to be.

"And he's a pain in the ass." Virgil smiled as he reached over and ruffled Gordon's hair.

Gordon reached over and attempted to pull Virgil off of the starting block, but Virgil jerked his leg out of the way before he could.

"Anyways, I think this is your last session. There is little more I can do for you. If you want to improve, it's time for a coach to step in." The therapist cleared off the stop watch and stood up. "I believe you have a doctors appointment in a half hour, might want to get going."

"Come on, I'll drive." Virgil reached down and took Gordon's hand, hauling him to his feet.

They made it to the doctor's office with seconds to spare and walked in to the giggling of nurses. There were three nurses behind the glass that divided the waiting room from the office area—one woman and two men, only one of the men was giggling, the other was rolling his eyes at the other two. It was the non-giggler of the group that opened the window and greeted Gordon. They all knew him by that point—monthly visits for the past six months would do that. Once he was checked in—and had flirted with the other two in the office, they took a couple of seats near the door and waited. Virgil thumbed through an issues of Better Housekeeping while Gordon stared blankly out of the window.

Gordon glanced over at Virgil, wondering just why his brother was there. He hadn't been expecting him—at least not for another week. But here he was, possibly with news from his father. Gordon wondered if maybe he hadn't been fast enough in getting better, maybe they had decided to start the organization without him, maybe his father had decided not to go ahead with his plans at all.

Gordon shook his head, not sure where those thoughts had come from. His father would not back out on his plans this late in the game, nor would he start the organization without all of his sons with him—even if Gordon was somehow unable to participate, he knew his father would at least want him there. As for not healing fast enough, that was a laugh. They initially told him it would be at least a year before he was back to leading a normal life, and he had just been told he didn't need therapy anymore and it was't even close to a year—okay, just two months short, but still. It was fast.

"Gordon, you can come back now."

Gordon snapped his head from his musing and looked at the nurse that had opened the door. He was just as broad as Virgil with tattoos down both arms. "Hey, Matt! How's it going?" Gordon jumped from his seat pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind and made his way to the door a hand in the air, mid wave. "Still dating the cute thing from Washington?"

"Yep, got this one for her, here." He rolled his arm over to a reddened spot where a new picture of a dove was still raised against the ink around it.

"Ah, man, you know that's bad luck." Gordon hung his head and laid a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Every time you do that they end up breaking up with you."

"Can't help it." He just shrugged and smiled. "Room seven as usual."

"I'll wait for you out here, Gords." Virgil flipped a page in his magazine as he readjusted his seat.

"You his brother?" Matt asked as Gordon paused to see what was up.

"Uh, yeah." Virgil blinked.

"The doctor would like to talk to you as well."

"Me?"

"That's what she said." Matt shrugged and gestured for Virgil to follow Gordon.

Gordon frowned as Virgil nodded and stood, he didn't really want Virgil in the appointment with him. This was still private information as far as he was concerned. He hadn't even talked to his father about it yet.

They waited for about five minutes before Matt reappeared and took Gordon's vitals. He commented that his heart rate was a bit elevated, to which Gordon relayed to him his swimming trial. Matt left impressed by Gordon's accomplishment and the two sat, waiting on the doctor.

"I hope she makes you turn your head and cough." Virgil was reading a pamphlet on colon cancer and wrinkled his nose at one of the pictures.

"Nah, did that two months ago." Gordon waved him off and readjusted the hospital gown he had been forced to change into.

The door opened and Doctor Hamilton walked in. She was an older woman, well established in her career and well respected. Their father would have approved of nothing less. "Gordon, I hear you went swimming today. I hope you didn't overexert yourself."

"Nah, not at all." Gordon smiled at her, continuing to fiddle with his gown.

"Is that so. It takes a half hour to get here from the pool, you sat waiting here in the office for almost fifteen more minutes and yet your heart rate was still elevated."

"Just excited to be here!" Gordon swung his arm enthusiastically and then had to readjust his gown before anything fell out. In reality he was nervous, anxious about what the doctor would say about him in front of Virgil. Afraid she was going to sit and list all the things that were still wrong with him. All the reasons why they should just start the organization without him.

"I'll take your word for it." Dr. Hamilton smiled at him. "I doubt I want to know the details anyways."

"Well, let's just leave it at the fact that I'm officially done with therapy." Gordon straightened his back and smiled broadly at her. He had to stop thinking about this negative stuff. He had just successfully swam a hundred meter butterfly, something he really should have never been able to do again.

"That is good news. However, you're not in the clear yet. Let me see how you're doing." She turned her chair so that she was facing the wall. "If you could help your brother I need him face down on the table, gown off his back."

Gordon couldn't help but laugh a little at Virgil's wide eyes as he jumped off the table, took off the gown, threw it at Virgil and then jumped back up to lay on his stomach.

Virgil bumbled a little as he stood up to drape the gown over Gordon's lower extremities and then cleared his throat to let the doctor know they were ready.

"Alright, let's take a look at your back."

Gordon's back was something else. While those he had dealt with during his recovery were skilled in hiding their reactions to the large welt that ran the length of his spinal column and the web of other smaller scars that covered his back from armpit to armpit, Virgil was not. It wasn't that he hadn't seen it before, he just hadn't seen it enough to become used to it. Gordon knew his brother didn't mean anything by it, it probably wasn't something he had much control over really, but Gordon couldn't stand to look at him while the doctor poked, prodded him.

"Well, it looks like everything is holding up just fine." She stepped back and turned to look at the wall again. "You may sit up."

Gordon quickly flipped around and pulled the gown over his knees and lower torso. "So, am I fully healed?" He was trying his best to be optimistic, hoping it would make the rest of the appointment go as well as it had already.

"With an injury like yours we generally never say one is fully healed." The doctor sat down on her stool again and looked between the two brothers. "I've been talking to the orthopedic surgeon who did your surgeries, the therapists, as well as the psychologist you've been seeing."

Gordon couldn't help but tense. Virgil knew he was seeing a psychologist, but he did not want that to be discussed like they had just gone out for a picnic.

"We've all pretty much came to the same conclusion. We've done as much as we can for you. The rest is up to you."

Gordon leaned forward and talked quickly, hoping to finish things up quickly. "So, does that mean I'm healed?"

The doctor sighed and shook her head. "No, you are at maybe sixty percent of where you were before your accident. You will probably never get to one hundred percent."

"What if I kept training, kept trying?" Still his speech was fast, his hands gripping the side of the table firmly. He just wanted to get out of there, did not want to hear the truth. The fact that he may never be good enough to take part in his father's dream. The only one of his sons unable to participate.

"No, I would encourage you to continue healthy habits, keep swimming especially, but do not push yourself. You are lucky to be where you are now. The orthopedic surgeon thought the best you would do was maybe thirty or forty percent, you'd be walking but with braces and a cane at best. You out did any of his expectations, and honestly he's a little annoyed at that—he doesn't like to be proven wrong."

"Should I go to his office and do a little dance for him? Rub it in his face?" Gordon wiggled a little on the table—hoping a little humor might deter the conversation a bit. He had to grab the gown as it started to slid off his legs.

"I wouldn't recommend it. He may just re-bill you saying he made a calculation error and charge you more."

Gordon raised his eyebrows, a devilish glint in his eyes—that sounded like a challenge. He had to keep it going, keep her off the subject, but Virgil cleared his throat and gave him a warning glance. "Is there anything we should worry about? Is there a chance of reinjury?"

"There will always be a chance of reinjury. Even with all the metal that's in his back now, it's not as strong as it once was. If he pushes it too hard it could lock up on him or his muscles could start spasming. Either way, it's painful and depending on the severity he may end up on the operating table again."

"Yeah, don't want that. Four times was enough." Gordon was still smiling as he held his hands up in an x before him. He could feel his heart start to beat faster again, he was losing control of the room to Virgil, the conversation was not going the way he needed it to.

"Is there anything we can do if either of those happen?"

The doctor turned to Virgil and looked him up and down. "Your father told me that you and one other occupant of the island has had advanced paramedic training. Is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then if either of those should happen, Gordon needs to be put on a solid flat surface, traction if possible and given some muscle relaxants."

"Right, lay flat, and ignore the last part. Are we good to go?"

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, but turned back to the doctor. "If they are mild, would plain painkillers work?"

"If they are mild, yes. However, if he is screaming in pain don't hesitate. I'll even prescribe him an injectable version as well as the pills just I case. Otherwise, continue with the medication you've been using until further notice."

"Oh yes, I'm going to need a list of those."

"Virgil, I can take care of my own pills." Gordon was frowning his arms crossed. Him being here was bad enough, him knowing all of his medications was crossing the line. "Anyways, haven't taken any of it for the past month."

"Gordon, that was very dangerous of you to do. Some of those medications can have side effects if taken off of too quickly." The doctor had turned to face him, a frown on her face.

"But I'm fine, no harm done." Gordon waved her off and readjusted his seat. He was smoothing out the gown that was still draped over his legs.

"Dad put me in charge of the infirmary. As such, I want to know what everyone is taking and I want it kept in one place." Virgil was trying to meet eyes with Gordon, but Gordon wasn't letting him.

"That is very wise of you." Dr. Hamilton nodded and brought Virgil's attention back to her.

"Well, I don't need them." Gordon crumpled the gown in a his fists.

"I would have to argue, but I cannot force you to take them. However, you should still have them on hand should you need them."

"So, it would be okay to take them as needed?" Virgil was leaning forward, toward the doctor.

"Yes. I would encourage it. I'll have Matt print off a list, but I'll go over them with you in case you have any questions."

"That's not necessary. Virgil is sharp as a tack, he doesn't need any explanation." Gordon hopped off of the table, holding the gown in one hand.

"I'm glad your confident in my ability, but I would rather go over the medicine with the doc." Virgil grabbed a pad of paper and balanced it on his knee to take notes.

Gordon leaned up against the table. This was the worst possible situation it he could find himself in. It was his life, he didn't want Virgil in charge of it.

"Alright. For muscle spasms; if they are light then extra strength Tylenol or ibuprofen should work fine, though I would recommend Tylenol over the ibuprofen as the latter in large doses can lead to kidney problems. More major spasms should be treated with Baclofen, it's a 5 mg pill he'll take three times a day for three days, if after three days he's still having issues, call me and I'll give you further instructions. If for some reason he has a severe muscle spasm and is crying in pain I'll prescribe some Valium. It'll be the injectable which you will give him a starting dose of 2 mg. If that is not enough increase it by 1 mg. Once he has stabilized you need to get him to the mainland for professional help."

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to need Valium!" Gordon's core was shaking he was getting so frustrated at Virgil and the doctor.

"It may not even be needed, Gordon." Virgil frowned as he jotted his instructions down.

"That depends only on one person." The doctor turned to look at Gordon who was still clutching at the gown his arms crossed.

It was entirely possible he would have issues with his back. He could only push himself so far right now, and was still working on strengthening the muscles. He was still limited to fifty pounds lifting, could bench press a little more than that, but he still had some ways to go. After his swim that day he couldn't do much more as it was.

"For depression and anxiety he's been prescribed Zoloft. It's a 50 mg tablet he should take once a day as needed."

"I don't need it." It was said quietly, but loud enough that Virgil glanced over at him an eyebrow raised.

"If that doesn't seem to be working then he's not taking it and you should check his cheeks and under his tongue to see if he's hiding it and spitting it out later."

"Uh, right." Virgil's widened his eyes and blinked a little, glancing between Gordon and the Doctor.

"Fake taking your medicine three times and your tagged for life." Gordon waved his hand in annoyance.

The doctor just continued. "The psychologist said he has been having some occurrences of nightmares—"

"Hey!" Gordon threw the gown to the floor, finally annoyed with the amount of information she was handing over. "No one was supposed to know that! That was just between me and him!"

"Gordon, put your damn clothes on!" Virgil turned bright red and picked up the gown holding it up over Gordon.

"Virgil is your primary care provider while on the island. He is legally and morally required to know all of your issues." The doctor was unfazed by the show and continued on.

"When he has a nightmare it usually lingers and occurs for the next few days. He has been prescribed Xanax, .5 mg tablet three times a day until the nightmares stop. If that does not help, then I recommend he return to the mainland for more psychiatric help."

"Are we done yet?" Gordon was pulling on his underwear shorts throwing Virgil angry looks.

"Just about. I'm going to prescribe two more medicines, just in case. He hasn't had any instances that I am aware of, but if he starts having dissociative flashbacks or intrusive memories give him one to two 10 mg tablets of Propranolol four times a day as needed. And, I hope nothing like this ever happens, but if he starts to have psychotic-like illusions or hallucinations of the accident give him Olanzapine, 2.5 mg once a day, as needed." She turned to look at Gordon who was turning a bright red. "This is only precautionary. You lot will be on an island without any nearby help after all."

"New Zealand isn't that far away." Gordon snapped as he grabbed for his shirt.

"When you're in severe pain, it will seem as if it's on the other side of the world." The doctor closed his file and stood. "I believe that is all I can do to help. Just give me a call if you have any questions and I do hope, Gordon, that you will never need this medication."

"I won't." Gordon finished buttoning his shirt and stormed out of the room and down the hall, not even saying a last goodbye to the nurses who watched him go in shock.

Virgil drove them back to Gordon's apartment in silence where they packed up his things and then drove to the small airport outside of San Francisco where Tracy Two was parked. There were two trucks waiting on them when they arrived outside the family hangar and Virgil jumped out, calling out his apologies to the men waiting on him.

Gordon sat in the car and fumed. He was not depressed, anxious, and very much not psychotic. Yes, he had had some nightmares. He had also been trapped in a capsized ship for six hours, there would have to be something wrong with him if he hadn't had the occasional nightmare. Even when he did have the nightmares he never took the medicine they gave him. He just didn't like it. Didn't like not being in control.

Virgil came back to the car a few minutes later, and drove it into the hangar where several crates of stuff were being stacked. He parked the car in its normal spot, turned off the engine, and turned to Gordon. "Look, Gordon."

Gordon sighed, he knew he was not going to be able to just go and get to the island, not with the way Virgil was looking at him right now. So he shook his head, It wasn't Virgil's fault—at least not completely. "Look, sorry. It's just—I'm tired of being the sick kid. I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I'm broken, and in need of constant help. You heard the doctor, I'm healed!"

"Actually, she said—"

"Yeah, I know, sixty percent healed, but in my book that is still healed. No more therapy, no more doctor appointments. And I don't need any medicine." Gordon glanced into the backseat where the box of various meds sat that they had picked up at the pharmacy.

"Look, all those meds back there are as needed. You may accidentally pull your back, or injure it in some way. We're going to be doing dangerous work, we need to be prepared for all possible outcomes."

"That's fine, I understand that, but that stuff doesn't have your name on it, or Alan or Scott or John's. It's mine, and anyone that looks at it is going to see my name."

"No one is going to see it. It's going to get locked away in the infirmary and only myself and Brains are going to have keys." Virgil was staring at Gordon, his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"What, what?" Gordon frowned, knitted his eyebrows together, and crossed his arms trying to keep the shaking to a minimum.

"There's more."

"Nope, that's all. Nothing else to see here." Gordon turned his head to watch the men as they continued to unload their trucks. He wasn't in the mood to open his soul to anyone, let alone Virgil.

"Lier." Gordon could hear the squeak in the seat as Virgil readjusted himself. "It's not just the medicine. What is wrong?"

Gordon frowned. Virgil wasn't going to let him out of the car that easily. He had to think of something he could complain about without actually opening up to him. Gordon glanced over at Virgil, sighed, and slumped down in the seat, there was at least one thing he knew was going to happen that he was not looking forward to. "They're going to baby me."

"Gordon." Virgil rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You were just involved in a major accident. You shouldn't be here right now! You should be six feet under, or at the very least still in a wheelchair because you freaking broke your back. Yes, we are going to baby you! We're worried about you and don't want to see you get hurt again!"

"What ever happened to getting up and taking care of yourself. When we were little if we got hurt Dad would just tell us to get up and walk it off, get over it, and keep going. That is what I'm trying to do, but you guys—Dad and Scott especially, won't let me."

"They care about you."

"I know! That's what's keeping me from punching them in the nose." Gordon let his hands fall down onto his legs in frustration. "Scott came to visit a couple of weeks ago. We went out to eat and the entire time he was at my elbow as if he was expecting me to crumple to the ground at any moment. I was so sick of him hovering that I feigned tiredness and went to bed at six o'clock."

"He didn't know how to act, didn't know where you were at. Two weeks ago, you'd only had the halo off for a couple of weeks." Virgil waved his hands toward Gordon's head and Gordon couldn't help but reach up and feel the scars were the contraption had been screwed into his head. "Look, here is what we'll do. Once everyone is on the island we'll have a meeting about you. Talk about where you are, what you are and aren't able to do, and what is expected of you. You can be there or not, that is up to you. That way they all know when they can baby you and when not to."

"You have got to be kidding. That will only make it worse!" Gordon threw open the door and pulled himself out of the car, storming over to the plane. He could hear Virgil's door close as well, and quickened the pace, but came to a halt just outside of the plane.

"Gordon, will you stop." Virgil caught up to him and grabbed his arm pulling him around to face him.

"What, Virgil?" Gordon tried to stand at his full height, unfortunately still an inch shorter than Virgil.

"I'm just trying to help you. We are going to be working closely together once Dad's organization is up and running and we have to be able to trust each other. Not just you and me, but Scott, Alan, John, and Dad. You don't want to be babied, I get that, but you're going to have to address it properly and not just run away from it. We need to know all of your issues, even the ones you didn't tell your doctors. Or do you not want to be part of this?"

Gordon blinked and took a step away from Virgil. He was still a part of all this. There was no way his father would keep him out. He was healthy and whatever problems he had, he was going to get over them. Nothing was going to stop him from being a part of this adventure. He took in a deep breath and looked down at the scars on his hands. "Of course I do! It's what has been keeping me going! I just—" Gordon slumped down on a nearby crate and leaned his head in his hands. "I just want to be able to take off and leave it all behind. The accident, the injuries, my recovery, everything. I want to be able to start off fresh as if it never happened."

"But it did happen, and you're not the same anymore. Olympian Gordon and WASP Gordon, they were great guys, but they're gone now. They're still a part of you, mind, but they aren't you anymore."

"Then who the hell am I now? Broken and battered Gordon?"

"Well, that's the thing. We don't know quite yet. Your determined that's for sure, won't take no for an answer. Still a pain in the ass, wish that had been left behind." A small smile flickered across Virgil's lips. "Maybe this Gordon, the one you are now, is going to be better than the ones before."

"But how do I know?" Gordon really didn't like how this conversation was going. He already felt lost and Virgil wasn't helping.

"Well, in a way you are starting fresh, this Gordon hasn't been labeled yet, except for the ass part, that's been done in permanent marker. Can't erase that."

"Thanks."

Virgil sat down next to Gordon and leaned his shoulder up next to him. "Brains has been working hard on your machine. Making sure none of the controls are too stiff, or awkward to get to." Virgil held up his hand as Gordon started to argue. "Not because he's going easy on you, but because he wants it to be the best mini sub the world has ever seen, and for it to be perfect for the best diver and oceanographer the world has ever seen. One not even a crash at four-hundred knots can finish off."

Gordon was quiet for a moment. He was still in a turmoil inside, but knew Virgil was just trying to cheer him up. So he looked up at him with a big grin plastered on his face."Well, I can't argue with that. I am pretty awesome."

"That you are." Virgil patted him on the back. "Come on, let's get this stuff loaded up so we can get home."

Gordon smiled a little to himself as he moved over and picked up one of the smaller containers. He had been wishing that John would be the one to come get him. He usually didn't pry into things, would have just taken the list of meds and they would have been off. However, John was a quiet guy, and Gordon wasn't too fond of quietness.

Virgil knew when quiet was needed and when it wasn't. Knew when to push for information and when to back off. Yeah, he forced Gordon into the conversation, yes Gordon hadn't been completely honest with him, but Virgil could read Gordon like none of the others could. He hadn't kept pushing him like Scott would have. He wasn't going to keep giving him worried looks like his father would have. He also wouldn't have just left him alone like John would have. He'll make conversation, talk about the island, his brothers, and try to get more information out of Gordon, but he wouldn't push it too much.

Gordon was glad it had been Virgil to pick him up. The trip to the island was going to be a bit more sufferable than it could have been. He was excited, really. Excited to see the island for the first time, to see his machine, to see his brothers—all five together for the first time in years. He was not eager to see his father, to test his limits and find out just how far he was from where he needed to be. He was afraid of what the future held for him, of what he may or may not become and if he would be able to reach his true goal or not.


	2. On the Diving Block

Chapter 2: On the Diving Block

Gordon was starting to get a little anxious. They had been in the plane for almost four hours. Normally, Gordon wouldn't have been bothered by the flight. He could be patient when he needed to be—not that he particularly like it but he could be. However, as big as the plane was—twice the size of Tracy one, her cockpit was still small and cramped.

Gordon climbed out of the co-pilot's seat for about the fourth time in the past hour and ducked through the door into the cargo hold. The cargo hold was significantly bigger but only had a few small windows which made it feel dark and small. Gordon could, however, stand up straight and walk around a little—which he did. However, he couldn't stand to be back there for long, and five minutes later he was climbing back into the co-pilots seat again.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Gordon smiled at his brother, trying to hide the gnawing in his stomach.

"Because you look like a caged animal, pacing, waiting for the door to open so you can escape."

"That's actually a fairly good description. Are we there yet?"

Virgil glanced over at him, his brows drawn down a little bit. "Claustrophobia?"

Gordon sighed. He didn't want to admit it, but it was kind of hard to deny at the moment. "Yeah, just a bit."

"You were always fine in the car, I didn't think it would be a problem here."

"I can roll the window down in the car." Gordon jerked his thumb to the small window next to him. "Do that here and I'm swan diving into the Pacific."

"Jeez, I didn't even think. Sorry, bro. I should have came and got you tomorrow when I'd have access to Tracy One."

"Not sure that would have been any better. She is a smaller plane after all."

"True, but there is a more open, lighted area for you to pace in."

"Really should get more lights back there." Gordon sighed and slumped back in the seat.

"Alright, we need to get your mind off of it. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know." Gordon was taping his foot, his finger picking at the faux leather on the arm rest. "Have you seen the ships yet? Like, are they all done and stuff?"

"Have I seen them?" Virgil let out a bark of a laugh. "I helped build them, doofus."

"Oh, right." Gordon smiled a little, his eyes brightened, his mind off his confines for the moment. "What's mine like?"

"She is the most advanced sub in the world. Nothing in WASP could even touch her as far as her specifications. She won't be able to do much from the island, you'll need my help to get around, but once you're in the rescue zone there will be very little to stop you."

"Wait, what do you mean I'll need your help?"

"She's a mini sub. Brains didn't want to load her down with a huge fuel tank, and the thrusters he designed for her are powerful, but it would take you too long to get anywhere on your own."

"Oh. How big is she?"

"Hm, the cockpit is pretty open, but not much bigger than in here. Only room for one person unless you want to squeeze someone else in there, but it might not be very comfortable."

Gordon jerked a little, his claustrophobia coming back like a sledge hammer. The sub—he hadn't even thought about the size of it. He knew it was a mini sub, knew it would be only him in it, but he hadn't really thought about just how small it would be. He would be alone, underwater, with literally nowhere to go. He started to wonder if he was going to be able to handle it.

"Gordon?"

"Hm?" Gordon snapped his head up and blinked at Virgil.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" He waved Virgil's worry away, and plastered on a smile.

"Are you going to be okay? In the sub? It is pretty small."

"Doing okay here so far so it shouldn't be an issue." He looked away from Virgil, out at the blue water beyond the horizon.

Gordon wasn't sure it was going to be quite that easy. When he had first gotten out of the hospital claustrophobia had been the last thing on his mind—he was just happy to get out of that place. When he had eased himself into the car his father and Scott had brought he was okay, then the door closed. They were both smiling and laughing, but Gordon suddenly couldn't breath. He had no idea what was going on. He had reached over and rolled down the window—even though it had been in the middle of winter. The cool air on his face helped but he still had to close his eyes and try not to think about where he was.

He never told anyone, though it didn't take long for them to guess what was going on. Gordon was hesitant to go anywhere, even the beach because it meant getting into the car. Overall it had taken him a couple months, but it did become easier—as long as he could have the window down, he was okay.

He knew the plane was going to be an issue. He had been trying to prepare himself—mainly riding in the car with the windows up, and closing the bathroom door while he was in there. He was really wishing he had had that extra week to prepare, though he doubted it would have made much of a difference.

Gordon looked back at the cockpit around him. The ceiling was a good couple feet above his head, but he could have sworn it was getting closer. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He probably couldn't last much longer before another trip back to the cargo area. That was something he wasn't going to be able to do on his sub. He would have to stay in the cockpit for hours at a time, by himself, with nowhere to go. He could feel himself shiver at the thought and he hugged himself a little.

"Gordon."

"Huh?" Gordon was snapped from his thoughts yet again and tried to push his unwanted worries away.

"Look." Virgil was pointing out the front window and Gordon had to lean forward to see what it was. A small brown and green dot growing on the horizon. "We're here."

Gordon's heart stopped for a moment. They were, there was no turning back, yet he was excited to finally see this island he had heard so much about. He watched intently as the island grew bigger, the smaller craggy islands around it looking dangerous, yet he was sure there had to be underwater caves all over the place. The plane banked and Gordon was able to get a good view of the house as they passed and of something that brought a huge smile to his lips—a glistening sheen of water in a perfect rectangle.

"Is that—that's the pool? I mean he said it was olympic sized, but—I mean—"

Virgil laughed. "Yes, that's the pool. He wanted nothing less for you."

"But it's huge. I mean, it's almost the size of the pool I won the gold in!"

"Well, there is a reason for that."

"What?"

"Well, we needed a place for Scott's plane to launch from."

"Launch? Wouldn't he just take off like normal?"

"Nope, he's launching."

"And what does that have to do with my pool."

"Oh? It's your pool is it?"

"Oh, like anyone else is going to be swimming in it daily!" Gordon beamed at Virgil. He couldn't wait to get into that nice cool water and do a couple of easy laps under the bright sun.

"No, probably not." Virgil nodded. "The pool retracts under the house, opening the way for Scott's machine to launch."

"You put the entire pool on treads?"

"Something like that." Virgil smiled. "You'll get to see it when we test them out in the coming weeks. It is something else."

"Does everyone get special exits?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh! Where do I get to exit from?"

"Oh, hmm… well, since you'll mostly be riding with me—"

"Are you serious? You mean everyone gets a spiffy exit but me?"

"Well, at least not yet. I think Dad is trying to figure something out. I mean, if there is a rescue in New Zealand or Australia you could potentially get there on your own—"

"No, I see how it is. No love for the little guy." Gordon did his best to keep smiling but doubt was edging its way back into his mind. Did he not get an exit because his father wasn't sure if he would be part of the organization? Or maybe he didn't know if he was going to be capable? Or—Gordon closed his eyes and forced those thoughts into the deepest recess of his mind he could push them into. He had no time for them.

The plane made a second lap around the island and Gordon could now see two figures standing out next to the pool, one dark head and one red head, his father and John. The plane banked away from the island so that Virgil could line her up with the landing strip and then brought her down gently—Gordon's stomach still doing a flip when the wheels squealed against the asphalt.

They taxied into the hanger off to the side of a large rock face and before Virgil could even start the shutdown procedure the elevator on the other side of the small hanger had opened and his father and John walked off of it.

Their father made a wide birth of the plane, avoiding the still spinning propellers, and opened the cargo door. "I was starting to wonder about you two!"

Gordon was already out of his seat and half way to the door. His father stepped aside as Gordon jumped out of the plane and stretched.

"Did you see the shopping list? I had to go to five different stores to get everything." Virgil jumped out of the plane right after Gordon and waved a hand at the contents. "Then this guy was determined to pack everything he owned into one bag—I ended up throwing half his stuff into a trash bag just so we could get going."

Gordon still had his back to his family, not quite ready to face them yet. He had no real reason for this, but he continued to stretch, reaching down to touch his toes. He knew he couldn't delay it any longer so he finally turned around, his hands on his hips. "Don't forget, you're going to wash and iron it all as well."

His father stepped over to him and took Gordon by the shoulders looking him up and down. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good." Gordon looked down and scuffed his shoe on the cement floor.

"Gordon?"

"I'm fine. Really." Gordon looked up and smiled at his father, finally meeting his gaze.

"If I find out you're lying."

"Dad. I'm fine. I wouldn't have come if I didn't think I could handle it." Gordon rubbed the back of his neck and tried to take a few steps away from his father, but he still had a firm hold of him.

"Alright." His father sighed and pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're here with us."

"Yeah, me too." Gordon relaxed a little in his father's hold. He knew his father didn't quite believe him, but was glad he wasn't going to push the issue right then.

His father let him go and patted him on the shoulder. "Your Alan is up in his room pouting. Doesn't know anything yet. Keep him company till the others get here."

"How does he not know?" Gordon dropped his jaw. He had been doing nothing but talk about his father's plans with anyone he could, though now that he thought about it, Alan had never brought it up.

"It just never came up." John pulled Gordon over for his own hug before going over to help Virgil.

"I don't know, I mean, this? What does he think we're doing here?"

"Vacation." It was his father that had answered.

Gordon couldn't keep his jaw from hanging at that.

His father just chuckled a little as he sat down a box on a nearby pallet. "Don't worry, he'll find out as soon as everyone is here. Don't go spoiling it now."

Gordon just shook his head and smiled looking up at his father and saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Gordon, catch."

Virgil flung his duffle bag at him and Gordon scrambled to catch it, taking a couple of steps back to keep his balance. "Thanks. I'll go comfort the poor boy while you guys work."

Gordon had glanced around the hanger for the stairs, but had not seen them off hand. He didn't want to draw attention to his issue, though, so he had jumped onto the elevator before his mind could react to it. However, he did not plan on staying in that small space long and hit the first floor button. It took a few seconds but soon the machine pinged and the doors opened.

The first floor opened up into a small hall. Gordon shouldered his duffle bag and wandered around a bit. The hall seemed to open up on one end only, and that was to the kitchen and dining area that led out to the pool. He'd have to remember that for later.

He mounted a nearby staircase to the second floor. This took him up into a large living space where he could see his father's desk and even a grand piano in the corner for Virgil. He followed the hall past the elevator and found a few other smaller sitting rooms and a small library before finding some stairs.

He made his way up to the third floor which opened up to a large rec room. Pool table, video games, ping pong—he was going to have to challenge John to some of that action soon, and there was another small room where he could see a video screen one one wall. He was going to have to take a good long poke in this room when he got some time, but he had a brother to find so he went back to the stairs and kept going up. The next floor wasn't for a while, the sleeping quarters were a bit distant from the rest of the house, but finally he reached the final floor and stopped for a quick breath—he really needed to start running a bit more.

The fourth floor opened into a hallway with doors lining one side. He opened the first door. It was a large room with a big king bed and decorated exactly like he could remember his father's room in Kansas—right down to his mother's jewelry box on the dresser, a family heirloom—not that there was really anyone to pass it down to.

Gordon shut the door and opened the next one. The room was a bit smaller, though it still had a large bed and its own bathroom. Gordon noticed Scott's Air Force jacket on a chair in the corner and closed the door again—there was never anything in his room worth messing with.

The next door proved to be his own. He knew this only because there were some boxes along one side of the room that someone had already gotten into. There were some extra swim fins, as well as goggles, snorkels, and a few of his swim trunks—things he hadn't particularly been using at the moment.

He dropped his duffle at the foot of the bed and started to rummage through the box. He had all kinds of memorabilia from school and his olympic training as well as his time within WASP, but there was one thing in particular he was looking for and it wasn't there. Gordon frowned and looked through it again. It should have been in that box, it was marked with a big GM on the side, the only box with such a label. It was the box his Gold Medal should have been in, but it wasn't.

He stood up. Who would have taken his medal? That must have been why they had opened the box for, but Scott was the one that had taken it, and there surely hadn't been anyone else on the island that would have known why he had labeled the box like that.

He turned around ready to go back down and ask his father when he saw it. It was an accent wall, painted a light blue with just a hint of turquoise to it. His dresser was up against it, as well as an extra chair. Above them both was a display he probably couldn't have done any better himself. There were pictures all over the wall, pictures of him mainly, but of his family as well. They had a theme though, swimming.

There were pictures of him as a baby with his mother at some of his first swimming lessons. Other pictures of him, older now and playing in the wading pool with Alan, and then bigger pools with his other brothers. Pictures of him practicing, training. His father standing with him as he held out the various medals he won as he worked his way up. The pictures were arranged so that the older ones were along the outside and as you looked inward Gordon grew older and more toned until you got to a small circle and the inner most set of pictures. Four pictures to be exact.

One picture was of him and his family at the airport saying goodbye as he left for the Olympics with the rest of the team. Another was of him and some of his teammates during the opening ceremony—taking selfies as they walked the long walk around the track. Then a candid picture of him during one of his races, on the starting block, ready to take off. And then the last one, on the podium the medal around his neck, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, his other over his heart as he mouthed the words to the national anthem, tears running down his face. In the midst of these pictures was the Gold Medal in a clear box—a place of honor.

Gordon sniffed and wiped his eyes. He was crying way to easily recently and made a note that he needed to get a handle on that. Having one cry baby in the family was enough. That reminded of his younger brother so Gordon left his room and continued down the hall.

The door to Alan's room was halfway open and Gordon could see the young Tracy laying on the carpet with his gaming device, shooting away at the zombies projected before him. Grinning, he knocked a couple of times to get his attention.

"Go away. I don't wanna talk." Alan didn't even look, he just continued to shoot at the zombies.

"Geez, I don't see you for a couple of months and that's the greeting I get?"

Alan popped up and flipped onto his back. "Gordon!" His enthusiasm was short lived and he sighed and rolled back onto his stomach again, tossing the game across the floor.

"Wow, you are down. What's up?" Gordon drew his eyebrows together and crossed his arms. He would have time to deal with his own issues later. His little brother needed him.

"I'm mad at John." Alan huffed and started poking at the carpet.

"You? Mad at John? Wow, he must have really screwed up." Gordon dropped down onto his knees and crawled over to sit next to Alan.

"He just completely destroyed my chances of getting into NASA, that's all." Alan laid his face on the floor hiding it from Gordon.

"And how did he do that? I thought he was only supposed to be a character reference." Gordon leaned over, and started poking him in the shoulder.

"Well, first, instead of writing a letter like everyone else—will you stop it!" Alan rolled over, away from Gordon, who could only smile at him. "He went with me to the interview."

"I heard that you begged him to go with you."

"Just to be there, not to destroy all my hopes and dreams."

"Aw, come on, it can't be that bad."

"He told them that I should give up on NASA for now and join the Air Force." Alan waved his arms into the air. "The Air Force! Can you imagine me in the Air Force?"

Gordon didn't answer that, knew it wasn't something he wanted to be answered and just made a noncommittal grunt.

"I mean, Scott, he's Air Force material. He does Air Force good—still not sure why he quit. But me? Not so much."

"Why is the Air Force so bad for you?" Gordon rocked a little where he sat, trying to be patient like Virgil. He knew Alan just needed to vent a little.

"All that structure and stuff, just not me."

"And you think NASA isn't going to be structured?"

"Yeah, I know, but they wouldn't make me go out to conflict zones and shoot at people."

"Ah." That was the issue. Gordon couldn't help but smile. Alan was the pacifist. Yeah, he liked shooting up aliens and zombies, but had never been interested in the war games—plus they were just video games. Shooting other people, that was just wrong. "Well, you could be in aid units and stuff. They have those in the Air Force."

"That's what Scott was in and he still ended up in combat." Alan let his arms flop to the floor.

Scott's time in the middle east was a sore subject for both Scott and Alan. He had come back to them safely, never been shot down, never been injured, but he had come back a little different. He was a bit more strict with them and there were jokes that had been okay before that were not now. It wasn't quite walking on eggshells around him, but sometimes you would just hit a nerve and had to back up and try again. Alan had had a harder time dealing with it than the others.

"Okay, no Air Force then." Gordon readjusted himself so that he was leaning up against Alan's dresser.

"No NASA either." Alan let out a long defeated sigh.

"Any idea of what you want to do then? Maybe a private aeronautics company? You could fly jumbo jets, or even the Fireflash when it comes out."

"I don't want to be a commercial pilot. I want to do stuff that's on the cutting edge, fly farther than anyone else!"

"There are private companies that shuttle people to space. They are getting that moon base up and running for the public."

"Again, that falls into commercial piloting. Plus the private space companies usually only hire ex-astronauts. They've been after Dad for awhile now."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, squirt." Gordon sighed. This wasn't something they really needed to think about. They were sitting on the answer right now, but Gordon had promised not to say anything.

"I have been thinking about racing." Alan glanced over at Gordon a frown on his lips.

Gordon widened his eyes. "Racing? But you promised Dad that you'd stop after high school."

"And I did. But what else is there for me?" Alan shrugged and pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Dad wouldn't be happy." Gordon rubbed his face, trying to think. The last thing they needed was Alan trying to run away.

"So? You joined WASP against his will and you're still talking."

"Yeah, remember that accident? He's kind of pushed that in my face a couple of times."

Alan turned and gaped at Gordon. "He didn't!"

"Well, not directly, but I could tell he was thinking it. The way he was looking at me. He wanted to say I told you so so badly, but he bit his lip."

"Oh, well, at least he didn't say it." Alan flopped back down again.

"I'm still waiting. Once he realizes I'm better I'm sure it'll slip out."

"Are you better?" Alan was looking up at him worry in his eyes.

Gordon suppressed a frown, it was starting already. He jumped to his feet and held his hand out. "One-hundred percent! How about we go down and check out the pool? I'm slow enough now that you might actually win!"

"Me? Beat you at swimming? This I gotta try!"

"Alright, last one down has to eat one of Grandma's cookies!"

It was an hour later when Scott finally arrived with the rest of the residents of the island in Tracy One. Alan and Gordon had spent the entire time in the pool, racing each other for a bit and then just floating around and chatting about their year—well more Alan's year, and what he was expecting during his final year at college. It was the first time in months that Gordon could say he was happy. No worries about his therapy, or his recovery. No claustrophobia. Just him swimming with his brother and having fun. He really didn't want it to stop, but Scott appeared on the edge of the pool calling them to a meeting in the lounge.

They grabbed some towels and dried themselves quickly as they made their way into the house, a trail of wet footprints in their wake.

Everyone was there; John and Virgil were sitting in the sunken sitting area with their grandmother and Kayo while her father and another young man stood patiently behind his own father. Scott had taken up his spot, leaning on their father's desk looking out at everyone who was now gathered there.

Gordon tried to cling to the euphoria he had been experiencing hanging out with his favorite little brother—the fact that Alan was his only little brother was pure coincidence. But the happiness he had been feeling for the past hour was slipping through his fingers as fast as the water he had been in, and no mater how tight he tried to hold onto it, the faster it disappeared. Now he stood among his family, and one stranger, and he could feel anxiety seep into him for some reason.

"I'm glad you were all able to make it back here today." Their father was leaning back in his chair smiling at all those around him. "As you all know we are on the verge of a new life together—"

"Wait." Gordon couldn't help but crack a small smile as Alan frowned at their father. "I thought we were just here on vacation?"

"John, didn't you tell him?" Scott took a step away from the desk, turned to to look at John his brows drawn together.

"Not yet." John shrugged.

"Tell me what?"

Gordon couldn't help but feel sorry for Alan. It was a horrible thing to be kept out of the loop from, but a part of him was glad that they had turned their attentions to Alan and not to himself. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on what was going on, which, he realized, he was not paying attention to in the slightest.

"I-I think Alan and G-Gordon should get some shoes on first."

Gordon snapped his head up and looked over to the unfamiliar voice. He then glanced over to Alan who was red and huffing at his family and was a little confused as to what was going on.

He decided to go with the one thing he was sure of. "And who are you?"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you two haven't met my top engineer, yet." Their father chuckled as he waved a hand to the man behind him. "Alan, Gordon, this is Brains."

Gordon had known about his father's plans ever since his accident, but this had been his first time meeting the man he had heard so much about. However, he wasn't sure what to think of the engineer in the large glasses. He tilted his head to the side and mused for a moment. "He doesn't look like a Brain."

"M-my name is a-actually Hiram Hackenbacker i-if you prefer."

"Hmm, nah, that's actually worse. Brains it is." Gordon flashed a big smile and could hear those around him chuckle. That was the reaction he needed, make them think he's being funny, and even he could ignore the shaking at his core.

"Gordon." His father frowned at him, but couldn't keep it on for long. "Go get your shoes on. You too Alan. You are both in for a wonderful surprise."

Gordon grabbed Alan's arm and pulled him back down the stairs to the kitchen where they had kicked off their shoes last.

"Do you know what is going on?" Alan was sitting on the floor fighting with a knot.

It took him a moment to figure out what Alan was talking about, I mean they were just putting their shoes on right? "Oh, why we're here you mean?"

"Well, Duh. That is what we were talking about up there. Or rather, they didn't actually say anything but just kept laughing at me." Alan was starting to turn red again.

"Dad told me about it all just after I had woken up, but I haven't seen anything yet." Gordon had wore some slip on shoes and was just leaning on the counter waiting on Alan.

"How come he didn't tell me?" Alan wasn't working on the knot anymore but was looking up at Gordon as if he was expecting some sort of answer.

"I don't know. Probably wanted to make sure you were concentrating on your studies. Otherwise, I'm sure you'd been nagging at him to come to the island all the time." Gordon shrugged.

"Yeah, that's probably true." Alan sighed and went back to fight with his shoe lace.

"Hey, hit me up later and I'll help you get some revenge. It was John's job to tell you right?" Gordon really wasn't in the mood to play any pranks—something that kind of surprised himself as well, but maybe if he forced himself into it it would help is overall mood. More fun with Alan, it worked the fist time maybe it will again.

"Boys, are you coming or not?"

"We are!" Gordon grabbed the shoe from Alan and pulled the knot out and threw it back at him before heading back up the stairs.

They were in the hanger now, looking over the various machines Brains had designed. Gordon's attention was on only one thing, his sub. It was beautiful. He had never seen anything so wonderful in his entire life. It was small, cute even, bright yellow and he could only guess at all the functions Brains may have built into her.

"What the heck is that?" Alan was standing right in front of it scratching his head. "How is this supposed to do anything cool?"

Gordon jumped, he had forgotten the others were there for a moment. He plastered on a smile and walked past his little brother patting him on the shoulder. "Aw man, she can do more than that big green monstrosity!" he vaguely heard Virgil's rebuttal, but didn't care. "She is beautiful."

"Eh, yellow though? Couldn't you have picked a better color?"

"Yellow is a sign of safety, and it's one of the best colors that stand out in the depths of the ocean." Gordon smiled back at his brother

"Depths of the ocean? You mean this is supposed to be a sub?" Alan blinked a few times, but Gordon wasn't listening.

He took a slow lap around his machine, counting the number of steps it took—thirty-four. He vaguely heard Brains rattling off numbers, the specs he assumed, but he had leaned in and was trying to look through one of her windows. "That cockpit looks a bit small." He hadn't necessarily meant to say it aloud and looked up when he realized it had gotten really quiet behind him.

"Well, yes. I wanted to m-make her as compact as possible, but with all the w-windows it shouldn't feel that way once you are inside." Brains pushed his glasses up.

"Why don't you hop in and get a feel for her?" His father was smiling at him, which made Gordon even more ashamed at the trembling he could feel.

Gordon plastered a grin once again on his face. "Nah, not right now. Maybe later." He had his hands flat on the yellow surface, hoping none of them could see the tremor in them which was radiating all the way to his core. It was small, which was both wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.

"Alright, on to the next." His father once again lead Alan away to another part of the hanger.

Gordon hung back, keeping his hands on the sub, waiting for the tremors to stop. He took some deep breaths as he pretended to examine the inside.

"Gordon, you coming?"

He glanced back at Virgil who was the last one standing there. "Yeah." He took one more deep breath and pushed himself away. His hands were still shaking so he crossed his arms and tucked them into his armpits.

They had continued their tour looking at all the birds, but Gordon's mind was on his alone. Would he be able to step inside of her? Yes, he knew he could. How long would he be able to stay inside? That was an unknown. He didn't have the luxury of time though. His father wanted everything ready and in order in a month and that wasn't just him being comfortable with just his machine but with the others as well.

Gordon started to feel sick and was glad he hadn't eaten anything since that morning. He followed everyone back up to the lounge where they sat and talked about the organization. Their operational limitations, legal limitations, protocol, and many other things that were necessary.

Gordon tried his best to pay attention, but his gut kept interrupting it. With every new thing his father piled onto the list his gut twisted, jerked, jumped, did a flip. He should have been excited. He was excited. He just didn't feel like it.

Their father dismissed the meeting after six hours. It was nearing sunset and Gordon decided that he needed to get away. Needed some time to himself to calm down and organize his thoughts. He excused himself quickly and headed down to the pool, past the glimmering water and down a nearby set of stairs. He carefully made his way along the path, stopping a couple of times to catch his breath—throwing up once, but eventually made it to the beach below.

He was living on a fine line. He had to be careful of his back, working it too much, like the doctor said, could send it into spasms. However, if he didn't work it at all it would weaken and he wouldn't be able to do anything. Then there was his mind. He felt as if he had a weak hold over the thoughts that kept intruding on him, threatening to make hims go crazy. He couldn't let his brothers see him struggle, he had to show them that he was there with them, ready to do what was needed.

However, by the time he reached the edge of the ocean, he realized he had pushed himself too far on the wrong side of that line—physically at least, though his grasp on his thoughts was weakening as well.

He was leaning over, a bead of sweat already rolling down his temple. His back was already starting to tighten up on him. He eased himself down on top of the boulder but missed it and slipped down the side, a yelp escaping his mouth as his sore back scraped against the rough rock, the air knocked out of him.

His mind was reeling, not only from the pain of his back, but now from everything that had been said in the meeting. Some part of his mind kept telling him that there was no way he was going to remember everything, that he was going to mess up and that his father was going to be disappointed in him. Another part of him tried to push those thoughts away. They were all going to have to memorize that same information. They weren't going to be expected to know it all in the matter of seconds. He would remind them, have them go over it again and again until it was ingrained in their memory.

Gordon groaned and leaned his head in a hand, his legs spread out before him. He felt about ready to cry, his head felt full and confused and he wasn't sure what he should be thinking. He could feel the tears leak out and run down his cheeks, but he just wiped them away and took a deep breath. He was not going to cry, if he let himself start, he wouldn't be able to stop himself later. So he took a deep breath and stared out at the setting sun trying his best to think of nothing.

The last of the disk had just disappeared under the water when someone sat down next to him. Gordon didn't acknowledge Virgil, he just sat there his legs splayed out in front of him, his eyes on the horizon.

"So." Gordon didn't move, didn't take his eyes off the sunset even though most of the colors had disappeared and the sky was turning the dark inky blackness of night.

"So." Virgil didn't move either, just continued to follow Gordon's own gaze into the sea.

"Didn't take Dad long to have you come talk to me."

"Dad didn't—"

Gordon turned his head and glared at Virgil. "You came out here without your sketch pad. Dad told you to come."

"He told me to talk to you. He didn't say when or where."

"Same thing." Gordon clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Didn't we already talk about this?"

"I'm fine."

"And I'm tone deaf."

"Virgil, I just need some time alone. You know, to think things over. Dad went over a lot today."

"Yes, he did. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"Can you stand?"

"Of course I can." Gordon crossed his arms and frowned.

"Then go for it."

"What?" Gordon turned to look at his brother again.

"Stand up." Virgil scooted around so he was facing Gordon.

Gordon frowned and averted his eyes again. "I don't want to."

"You don't want to because you can't." Silence and the sound of the waves on the beach was the only reply to this remark. "Is your back locked up completely or is it just a muscle spasm?"

"Muscle spasm. Between the swimming this morning, packing, the long plane ride, more swimming, and sitting in one spot so long for that meeting… I did too much." Gordon sighed but still did not look at his brother. His back he could deal with, the reason he had left the house in the first place was something he was not ready to let out.

"Not to mention the hour hike down here." Virgil sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We need to get you back to the house and some medicine in you."

"I don't want to take any medicine." Gordon slammed his hands down into the sand then froze as the vibration jarred in his back.

"It will help you."

"It will make me feel like crap." His voice scared away a small crab that had been making its way toward his foot.

"Look. Dad is wanting to start training tomorrow. If your back is still jacked up—"

"It's not jacked up. I just overexerted myself. I'll get a good night's rest and I'll be good to go tomorrow for whatever Dad has planned."

"You still need to get back to the house."

"I'll be able to move in a bit." Gordon's back wasn't the only thing throbbing now, his head was starting to betray him as well.

"How long is a bit?"

"A couple more hours." That would be enough for his back, and for him to get control of himself again.

Virgil let out a hollow laugh. "I'm not leaving you here in the dark for a couple more hours."

"Why not?" Gordon's voice was sharp, snappish.

"I'm taking you back to the house."

"I can't walk."

"I'm not asking you to." Virgil stood up and then squatted down between Gordon's legs. He reached back grabbed a hand and a leg and pulled him up onto his back, not giving Gordon any choice in the matter.

Gordon had bight his lip to keep a scream from escaping as his back was jarred into motion. Once he was firmly on Virgil's back—his face buried in the plaid of his shirt, his brother stood and turned to the path that would take them home.

Gordon was thankful that Virgil avoided the main entry into the house where most of the residents were. Instead he took him through one of the access doors through the hidden hangar and up the elevator, and then to Gordon's room. Virgil laid him down on the floor and helped him to undress and put his sleep pants on, propping his legs up a little under a stack of pillows.

"You need to take better care of yourself." Virgil was squatting down next to him.

"I'm fine." Gordon was still avoiding his eyes and instead was looking under his bed.

"Says the man who can't move." Virgil shook his head as he looked down at him. "You really need to take some muscle relaxants."

"No, I hate them."

"How about some pain killers? Tylenol?"

"If I take some will you leave me alone?" Gordon sighed but still refused to look at his brother.

"Probably not. However, if you take some, I won't tell Dad."

"Damn." Gordon glared at Virgil. The last thing he needed was his dad in there looking all worried at him. "Fine. Just the Tylenol, though. Seriously the muscle relaxants make me loopy for days."

"Alright. It's a deal." Virgil opened the drawer in Gordon's bedside table and pulled out a bottle of painkillers and tapped three of the small white pills into his hand. He handed them over to Gordon who threw them into the back of his throat and swallowed them dry.

"Now, leave me to wallow in my pain."

"Seriously though, Gordon. If you don't think you can do it tomorrow, let me know. I'll make up some sort of excuse if you want."

"I said I would do it and I will. I know my limitations. I just got excited today is all." Gordon sighed.

"Right."

It as silent for a moment and then he heard the door close. Gordon laid there staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was really going to be able to do what he wanted to, what his father expected him to. The first step, he knew, was getting into that sub. Once he was able to do that, then he should be able to get into the other birds without much issue.


	3. Diving In

Chapter 3: Diving In

Gordon groaned at the sound of his alarm. He reached over and slapped his hand down on top of it, then pushed himself up on an elbow so he could read the red numbers on its face. Three in the morning. He had been put the bed the previous evening by Virgil but had lain awake for a few hours on the floor while his back worked itself out. Once he was able to get up and into bed he drifted peacefully off to sleep. However, his sleep hadn't remained peaceful. He woke up at least once that he could remember, the faint memories of his accident still on the periphery of his vision.

Gordon shook his head and threw the blankets off of him. It was early, even for him, but he had his reasons for getting up. He rubbed his face hard and carefully tested his back, stretching his arms up above his head, swinging them around in a circle, and finally leaning over to touch the floor between his legs. All in all it seemed to have fixed itself properly through the night. He stood up and did some more solid stretches. Still, his back stood up to them and he smiled. He had been a little scared that it might lock up on him, cause him to be proven wrong, cause his father and brothers to have a reason to baby him.

Of course, he still had a big obstacle to overcome. He needed to get into that sub. That small, tiny, minuscule sub. That was why he was up so early. He knew getting into the small space was going to take time, time he didn't want to worry his father or brothers about. So if he could do it without them knowing, that would be the best, he thought.

He put on some loose clothes, his swimming gear on under them—he would of course head out to the pool once his initial task had been completed, and then headed down to the hanger. It was dark in the bowels of the mountain, and he didn't want to alert anyone to what he was doing so he turned on as few lights as possible.

The module where his little yellow sub was being stored had its own light source, he turned it on and took a wander around the mini sub. It was compact, he wasn't sure they could make it any smaller. There were windows all along the front and bottom of the sub, giving him a one eighty degree view. He walked once again around it but stopped at the rear where the main airlock was. He punched in the code and the first door of the airlock hissed open. He knew he would not be able to handle the airlock right away and punched another code into the lock to override the airlock altogether. He took a deep breath and turned the handle, opening the inner door giving him his first view of the inside of his bird. It was only slightly taller than himself, long enough for someone Scott's height to lie down, and wide enough for three to lie side by side. In other words, it was small—and this was the larger half of the ship.

Gordon took a deep breath to calm himself but could already feel his heart beat quicken and his hands shake. It was a stupid reaction, he knew it. Nothing was going to happen. He forced his foot forward, one step onto the yellow ramp the door had created. Then the other onto the gray flooring of the air lock. His breath was quickening, and he tried to take a deep slow one to calm down. Another one, and another. He closed his eyes and continued to take deep breaths as he forced his foot to take another step into the gray and yellow interior.

A cold dark wall. There were rivets in straight lines going down it in rows. Gray paint was peeling off of it where the rivets had been jared. A flake of that paint floated down and landed on Gordon's nose.

Gordon shook his head sharply and opened his eyes. He was outside his bird, his back tight against the bright yellow outer haul, his gaze locked on the vivid green of the module around him. That—that hadn't happened in months. Not since his first time going underwater.

He closed his eyes and shook his head again, hoping to rid it of even the hint of the image he had seen. He couldn't lose to this. He had to overcome his claustrophobia if he was ever going to be able to help his father and his brothers in their mission.

He rubbed his face hard with his hands and turned to face the airlock again. He wasn't going to give himself time to think. He took three large steps into he sub which landed him right in the middle of the cargo bay. He had his eyes open, his hands on his hips. He realized suddenly that he wasn't breathing so he forced himself to take a long, deep breath. Once that was done he turned his head a little and looked around him. The walls were gray, but not the gray of his memory. They were a darker gray with touches of bright yellow that matched the outside. There were two long doors on either side that Gordon assumed were the dry tube hatches. Several other compartments were dotted here and there and another door stood facing him.

He couldn't move, could fell his heart racing, but tried to keep breathing, and keep his eyes moving, concentrating on the labels on each of the compartments: first-aid, oxygen, flippers, helmets, tools, spare parts—

"G-Gordon?"

Gordon jumped and choked on a gasp. He turned around as he coughed and found the young engineer looking through the airlock at him. "D-doctor Hacknb-backer." Gordon cursed his voice as it cracked on the man's name.

"A-are you okay?" He was looking at Gordon intently, his brows drawn together.

Gordon put his fists back on his hips again, trying to look confident even though they were shaking even worse. "Yeah. I was just l-looking at my bird." Gordon tried to put a smile on his face, but the muscles there didn't seem to want to work properly.

"You look a little p-pale. Should I get your father?"

"No!" His voice was shrill and he cursed inwardly again at his lack of control over his own body. He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, I'm fine. Really. Just trying to get used to her. A little small back here but I'll be fine."

Brains frowned at him and nodded. "Well, Four isn't scheduled to go out for a f-few more weeks, you have p-plenty of time."

"Yeah, plenty." Gordon was starting to gain control of his body a little and tightened his jaw. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He looked over the interior of the cargo hold once more. It really wasn't too bad. His room at WASP had only been a little bigger and he had shared that with three others.

He reached up to open one of the cabinets and cursed to himself, his hands were still shaking. He glanced over to where Brains stood just outside of the hatch watching and wondered what the engineer was thinking. Did he see the fear in him? Gordon felt like it was radiating off of him in waves, like if this had been some comic he'd have gray lines coming off of him.

Gordon shook his head slightly, and tried to keep himself busy while he was in there. He opened every cabinet to see what was inside—even though they were all labeled. They were all packed full of supplies, except for a couple that had been left empty on purpose. Anything he could imagine had its place in the walls of the sub. Hell it was stocked better than some of the subs he'd been stationed on in WASP.

"W-what do you think?" Brains had stuck his head into the doorway, and Gordon was inwardly glad he was being careful not to block the exit completely.

"It's better than perfect." Gordon swung around and was able to give the engineer a true smile. "I don't know what kind of magic you do, but keep it up."

"I assure you, it's not m-magic, just simple engineering." Brains blushed a little. "If you think you are ready, the c-cockpit is just through that door. There is another airlock between the cargo hold and the cockpit that allows you to exit the sub faster, instead of having to go through here every t-time."

"Will I have my equipment there as well?" Gordon frowned as he glanced to the doorway separating him from the cockpit. "More secret storage?"

"There is a p-place for you to keep a helmet, and if need be one or two others could stand in the bubble, but for your other equipment… well, I was hoping to talk to you about it."

Gordon turned to look at the man, his brows drawn together, but for the moment his claustrophobia forgotten. "Talk to me? What could I have to offer you when you can design stuff like this?"

"I heard that you had been m-messing with a new design. Something about a drawing on a napkin."

"What? That?" Gordon waved Brains away with his hand. "I doubt it's anything we could use."

"Still. I would like to hear about it."

"Just as long as you don't mind wasting your time." Gordon shrugged his shoulders, he glanced back to the door. For a moment, he thought about leaving and talking to Brains about his idea. He _would_ have to go in there eventually, and he knew delaying it would only make it harder. That was time he didn't have so he took a deep breath and reached forward and pulled open the door.

The airlock there was much smaller, only as wide as the circular hole in the floor—the quick exit. The seat into the cockpit was already laid back, waiting on him. It looked like all he had to do was flip backwards and he could swim out in just seconds. Brains was right, it was a much faster method. Gordon stood in the doorway, taking deep breaths in through his nose, and out slowly through his mouth. The cockpit wasn't bad though. Brains had said it yesterday, with the windows it didn't seem near as small as it looked on the outside.

Gordon grabbed a pair of bars above the door and lifted his feet carefully off the floor, he did not want to jerk his back too much—Virgil would have his head if he did. Anyways, he may have been told he didn't need therapy anymore but his therapist was very clear that his back wasn't at full strength and not to over do it—not that it had stopped him yesterday. He swung his feet into the seat and slid down into it, the seat popping upright as he landed.

The grey wall was back. It's rivets still in a straight line in front of him, the edges of them sharp and ragged. Gordon shook his head again, forcing the image away. He buried his face in his hands and he could feel the sweat run down his temple. He slowly opened his eyes one at a time. The lights from the module shone into the small cockpit making it just as bright. He could see all the controls, and couldn't help but reach up—his hand still shaking a little—and touch the shiny new metal. There was indeed a place to put his helmet, and even some extra space near his head for anything else he may bring aboard with him in a hurry. He reached for all the switches, and knobs and handles all within easy reach. The view through all the windows was obstacle free and he couldn't help but smile in anticipation of getting the little machine under water.

He leaned back and the seat tilted back into the airlock. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, his feet stretched out into the cargo hatch. He looked back at Brains who was still standing by the rear airlock. "You, my friend, are a wizard. I don't care what you say."

"T-thank you." Brains blushed again and hung his head a little. "I was a-afraid you might have issues with the tightness of the space."

"Well, it is small. But it needs to be to get the speed and maneuverability out of her." Gordon frowned as he glanced around. "You were right about the cockpit though. The windows make it look a lot bigger than it is."

"I-I could put in some windows back here, if you n-need."

"Can you do that? Just throw in some windows?"

"Well, I will have to do some calculations, the frame would need some reinforcement, I'll have to relocate the mechanics for the dry tubes—"

"Whoah there. Sounds like your building a whole new sub."

"Ah, well, maybe."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get used to it."

"A-are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Gordon smiled, though it wasn't a big one. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then opened them again. The walls of the cargo hold were slowly creeping in on him and the image of the gray rivets were starting to blur into his vision. He needed to get out. He pulled himself to his feet and took the few steps it took to get him out of the sub and back into the module. It was still tight there and he quickly walked past Brains and back into the main hanger, the high ceilings a relief.

"G-Gordon?"

"I'm fine." Gordon waved the engineer away, flashing a smile at him. "I just got to get used to her. But now, it's time for a swim."

"Alright." Their father was standing at his desk looking out over the group in the lounge. Gordon was there, sitting down in the sunken living area next to Alan.

He had spent his morning swimming—slow easy laps, though he still got a frown from Virgil whenever he looked his way. Virgil was obviously not happy, but Gordon didn't apologize—the doctor had said to keep swimming. He knew he wouldn't be doing the butterfly again anytime soon, but that didn't mean he couldn't do the other strokes.

Now, though, it was time for business. He was with his family and friends listening to the schedule his father had planned for them. They had a little over a month till the scheduled operation start date of the organization. The Thunderbirds still needed some testing and the pilots needed some training.

"We have a lot to do in the next month and with Brains' help we've got ourselves a tight schedule. Everyone will be involved in all the events, unless otherwise stated. We will first work on getting to know the birds a bit better. Boys, you will each spend this first week studying the schematics of your own personal machine. As time goes on I will expect you to know the ins and outs of all five of the main machines as well as the pods and their various configurations."

"When you say know them, just how well are we supposed to know them?" Gordon frowned at his father. He was hoping to get into his bird as soon as possible.

"If you have to, you need to be able to take her apart and put her together again." His father smiled down at him. "In other words, if you need to make a repair while your deep in the ocean you'll be able to. Brains won't always be able to be in your ear in an emergency."

"Right." Gordon nodded and leaned back into the couch. It wasn't that he disagreed with his father, he was just starting to get a little impatient. He didn't have a lot of time to waste looking at diagrams. He needed to get his sub in the water and get over his issues now.

"Don't worry, Brains is here now. He and Virgil know all there is about each machine. If you have any questions just ask."

Gordon nodded again. This also meant he would be spending quite a bit of time in his sub. Well, he was planning on doing that anyways, just not in sight of his family.

"Next week, we will be testing and training on Thunderbird 2. Virgil will do the initial tests the first day, but then you will each have a chance to take off, land, and do some basic maneuvers in her. If for some reason Virgil is unable to go on a rescue, the next in line to pilot her would be either Gordon or Alan, so you two especially need to be able to fly her."

Gordon frowned a little at this. He wasn't much of a pilot, that was what his brothers were for. But his father was right, if Virgil couldn't pilot it, he may have to. He looked over at Alan and smiled a little. Alan was beaming, his eyes wide, even bouncing a little. Overall, the second week didn't seem too bad. Even with the prospect of having to fly that behemoth, there couldn't be too many small places he'd have to deal with.

"After that we'll turn out attention to Thunderbird 1." Their father had continued on and Gordon took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. "And the week after that, Thunderbird 4. At the end of each week we will start doing some mock scenarios and get the feel for different things we may encounter."

"When will we get to try out my bird?" Alan was on his knees behind Gordon now, his hands on Gordon's shoulders.

"The week after. We will all go aboard Thunderbird 3 and take a trip up to Thunderbird 5 where we will perform some system checks and do some space training. The odds of everyone having to go up to space for a rescue is slim, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Are we going to get any time off between now and the start date?" Virgil was frowning at his father, his bushy eyebrows knitted together.

"If everything goes to plan, you'll get the last day off." Their father smirked. "It's a full schedule and there is little room for rest. I was hoping to get everyone together sooner, but things just didn't work out like that."

"Mr. Tracy, s-should I hand out the t-tablets?"

"Oh, yes. These tablets can only be used here on the island. They are the only device, except for the controls hard wired into the house that can access the IR database. You each have one, do not lose it. If you should take it off the island it will wipe its own memory and become nothing but an expensive paperweight."

"What's a paperweight?" Alan asked from behind Gordon.

Gordon just pushed him down and turned to his father with his own question. "Aren't you being a little paranoid?"

"These machines are nothing like what is out there. There will be people that will want the technology for their own profit, and I do not want them to have it."

"Right, paranoid." Gordon rolled his eyes and turned back to the tablet in his hand. He started it up and searched for the schematics for his bird. It was a small ship, but there were enough gadgets to rival her bigger sisters."

"Now, before you get too deep in your studies, I want to make sure you are aware of one more thing. What we are attempting to do here has never been done before. There will be issues, with the machines and with the pilots. If any of you are having hesitations, experiencing fear because of how something is wired up, how it handles, or anything else. You have to tell me. If we cannot address it now, it may mean the life of someone down the line, either yours or someone else's. This is not something I want to risk. I will only send you out on a rescue if I am sure you are fully prepared to handle what lay in store."

His father was looking at him. Gordon's smile faded as he turned to look away. He wasn't saying that for anyone else, he was talking to him. Brains must have said something, he was sure of it.

Once their father was done talking, everyone scattered to look at their own birds. Gordon didn't want to stay in the house, but didn't want to go down to the hanger either. Instead he headed out to the pool deck and took a seat on one of the lounge chairs, an umbrella above him as he started to go over the schematics in front of him.

"Gordon."

Gordon tensed. He had been wondering how long it would take for his father to come and talk to him personally. He had already sent Virgil, and hopefully got nothing out of him, though Gordon knew that was a long shot.

His father sat down on the side of the lounge chair next to him, his hand resting on his legs. "We haven't had a chance to talk since you've been back."

"Well, you do have us on a pretty crazy schedule." Gordon tried not to sound annoyed, but his voice was quick and clipped.

"Yes, and I purposefully put off testing your bird to give you more time to heal."

"I am healed."

"Doctor said you were only about sixty percent."

"I was able to swim a hundred meter butterfly."

"Slowly, and you have weight restrictions."

"Only for another two months. My therapist gave me a regime to do every morning. Swim, lift weights, the whole deal. I'll be ready." Gordon refused to look at his father, concentrating on the tablet in his hand.

"Right, but how about you?"

Gordon stiffened a little. "What about me?"

"Gordon, I'm not as clueless as you would like me to be. I've talked to your doctors, all of them. I know you're having some issues with claustrophobia, and having some nightmares."

"Dad. I'm fine. Really. Yeah, small spaces still bug me, but I'm working on it."

"You seemed to struggle a little in the module this morning."

Gordon groaned as he flopped his head back in the chair. "I told him not to say anything."

"Brains said absolutely nothing, well, except wondering if we should put some windows in the cargo hold. Didn't say why so I brought up the surveillance videos." His father paused and leaned forward. "You didn't look well."

"I have problems, I know. But I was able to get onboard and look around."

"You were only onboard for ten minutes. You may have to stay onboard for hours on a rescue."

"That was just the first time. The more I get on the better it'll be. And honestly, it's just the cargo hold, the cockpit is fine."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'm still worried. Have you had any nightmares recently?"

"No." Gordon sat up and crossed his arms. He wasn't about to tell his father about those.

"Gordon, I am serious. If I don't think I can trust you, I will ground you. We cannot risk something happening while you are on a rescue."

"Dad. I'm fine. We have a month to get ready, and I have a lot to go over right here." He waved the tablet in the air. "I'll have plenty of opportunities to work on getting more comfortable with the machines. By the time we are ready to start, I _will_ be fine."

"And if you aren't."

"I'll let you know. I promise." Gordon finally turned to look at his father.

His father sat there with a frown on his face, but finally sighed and patted Gordon's leg. "Alright, I'll trust you. But I mean it. If I find out that things are not fine, you will be grounded."

"Yes, sir." Gordon nodded. They sat in silence for a bit before his father finally stood and walked away. Gordon let out a sigh of relief and started to wonder if he would be ready when the time came. Would he be able to overcome his fears by the time he was required to spend an hour at the bottom of the sea in nothing but that little sub?

Gordon shook his head and looked back down at the tablet. There was no point in worrying about the future, he had plenty to worry about right then and there.

It was two days later before he purposefully went to the module that held his sub during the day. He had taken time yesterday morning and that morning to make his way into the sub and look around. Each time trying to stay a little longer. Fifteen minutes was his top time at the moment. The image of the gray wall and the rivets still flashed in his mind, but he only had forty-three more days. He needed to push himself harder if he was going to be able to stay in the sub for hours at a time.

He had gone over the schematics multiple times, was working on getting things memorized, but there were a few systems he had questions about. He was on the port side of the ship, the access hatch off and on the floor by his feet. The wires were neatly bundled and tied to the inner hull of the ship, and Gordon was trying to figure out which bundle he was looking for. There were arms on the sub that he could use to grasp things, and even cut things as needed. However, according to the schematic they were wired from the cockpit using wire that seemed too small to provide the power needed to properly transfer the force necessary to move them. He wasn't having much luck picking out one wire from the next, there were just to many systems bundled together at that point. He was going to have to go inside and try and find it on that end.

He went to the back of the sub and opened both airlock doors. Gordon took a hesitant step into the back of his bird, taking deep breaths through his nose and out of his mouth. He knew that his father would be watching him every time he stepped foot into the sub. The idea of him spying on him almost made it harder to deal with the small space.

Gordon had already looked through the plans to see if there were any cameras in the sub, but for some reason, the only ones were through the communications device in the cockpit, and the small one next to the door there in the cargo bay. Neither of those cameras were able to be activated unless there was an open comm signal. A safety measure to keep anyone from hijacking the cameras and getting information about the machines. Their father really was paranoid.

Gordon made his way to an access hatch in the corner of the cargo bay. He pulled it off and displayed another bunch of bundled wires that looked to be running the length of the ship. Still not what he was looking for, Gordon opened up the next airlock door and squeezed himself into the secondary airlock.

He was so intent of finding that particular set of wires, finding them and getting out of there, he didn't think about what he was doing. The secondary airlock was very narrow, just wide enough that his shoulders almost brushed against the walls as he made his way to the hull. He reached up to pull off the access hatch his arms banging against the two walls as he pulled the metal cover off.

The wall was in front of him again. He could feel the pressure on his back, could feel the sharpness of whatever it was that had him trapped. He, however, could not feel his legs, or his feet. His right arm was stuck too, so he reached up with his left and banged on the wall before him. The rough cut rivets digging into his skin.

"Help!" His voice was almost gone. The ship had a crew of thirty-five. Had they all died in the accident? Was there no one to hear him? He called again, and banged his hand against the rough surface. The movement jostled his body and he winced in pain.

"Gordon! Where are you?"

Gordon gasped as his heart jumped from his chest. He was crumpled down in the narrow space of the airlock. His hands clenched on his knees, the sweat keeping his fingers from digging into the skin. He reached up and rubbed his face as hard as he could. He was cold and sweaty, his hands shaking.

"Gordon? Are you in there?" It was Virgil.

"Y-Yeah." Gordon's voice cracked and he cleared it. "I'm here."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just checking something out. What do you need?"

"It's time for dinner. You coming?" He could hear Virgil step up onto the sub, ready to come in.

"I'll be up in a bit. I want to figure this out first." His voice was still shaky, a little weak, and he hoped Virgil didn't notice.

"Do you need any help?"

"Nah." Gordon let out a weak laugh and then coughed. "I want to figure it out myself."

"Alright. But if your not up in ten I'm coming back down."

"F.A.B." Gordon used the new callsign their father had created, hoping it would make Virgil relax a little.

"Right. Remember, ten minutes."

"I'll be there shortly. I promise." Gordon leaned his head down on his knees, taking deep quiet breaths and listening. He heard Virgil step down, the echo of his foot in the module rather than the cargo bay, and then the next step and the next, each farther away.

Gordon pulled himself over onto his knees, his feet tingling with pins and needles. How long had he sat there like that? He crawled over to the door and pulled himself into the cargo hold stretching out in the larger space, looking up at the low ceiling above him.

That had not gone well. He could deal with the flashes of memory, the images that layered over his vision from time to time. This time though, it had been much stronger. Instead of just seeing, he felt it. Felt the pressure on his back, felt as the metal tore through his skin as he pounded on the wall.

He took more deep breaths and wiped his face again with his hands. He needed to be more careful. He couldn't just hop into small spaces like that. He needed to make sure to ease himself in, be conscious of what he was doing.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, his feet still tender from the lack of circulation. He wiggled his toes—more to make sure they were still working, and then pulled himself up. Instead of looking for the issue himself, he decided to just ask Brains about it. He ran his hand through his hair and then made his way out of the small sub.

Gordon was hesitant to go to sleep that night. The flashback still fairly fresh in his mind. He sat at his desk in his room and continued to study the schematics. Their father had announced at dinner that he was going to start testing them on what they knew. In a way Gordon was glad that his bird was as small as it was. Because of that there wasn't enough room for crawlspaces. Everything he needed to get to was on the surface. The only sketchy part would be in the airlocks themselves.

He brought up the images of the inner airlock. It was the narrowest, and the one that worried him the most. He looked through the pictures, at what functions were accessible though those access hatches and tried to figure out if there was a possibility of him having to get into it again. Luckily there was nothing major, just access to wires should something become shorted out, which, after talking to Brains, he doubted would ever happen.

Brains had not only super engineered the ship, but all the parts as well. The odds of any of the wiring shorting out, was extremely low. There would have to be a leak that filled the small space between the inner and outer hull full of water and be unnoticed for weeks if not months before any kind of issue would show up. Considering his father was requiring full checks after each use, it was very unlikely something like that would happen.

He flipped through the pages of diagrams to the rear air lock. This space was bigger, meant to hold at least two people comfortably, if not three in a stretch. It was much wider, and longer than the inner air lock, and contained two important access hatches. These hatches did not include wiring. Instead it gave access to the mechanisms that helped control the dry tubes on ejection from the sub. If anything were to go wrong, it would be the mechanical parts of the sub, not the electronics.

Gordon was sure his father would do something to keep the tubes from working properly. If he did, Gordon would then have to be in that small space to fix it.

Gordon leaned back in his chair and stared out of the window before him and across the ocean. Would his father do that to him? He knew he was having some issues with inclosed spaces. Would he purposefully force him into a small space and see just how bad his issues were?

He stood and started to pace around the room. He knew he had not put his father's worries to rest that day. Knew his father was going to worry about him for months to come. It wouldn't matter if he walked around carrying Virgil on his back and ran a mile, he would still worry about him. It was his job after all, he was his father.

Gordon shook his head. His father was also a shrewd man who did not like to dance around obstacles. He would want to know all issues now to prevent them from being issues later. Gordon should tell his father about what had happened earlier, but at the same time knew if he did, his father could very possibly ground him before he ever got the chance to leave the ground. No. He couldn't tell his father. He just had to figure out how to get over his fear on his own.

Gordon paced a bit more around his room, but finally came to a halt in the middle. There was really only one way to become used to being in the small space that was Thunderbird 4. He would have to spend as much time as he could in her. Sleep in her if he needed.

He grabbed his pillow, blanket, and clock and made his way back down to the hanger. He didn't bother to turn on any lights, but felt his way to the module and to his bird. He opened both airlocks, and laid down his blanket on the hard gray surface of the cargo bay. Start easy, he thought to himself. Leave the doors open, a light on.

The plan worked well. In the morning, he stashed his bedding in one of the extra storage cabinets in the sub and then headed back to his room and dressed for his morning workout. No one mentioned him missing from his room. No one mentioned seeing him on the security cameras during the night. He had slept well actually, no nightmares at all. It was a good sign. So when his father showed up to test his knowledge of his sub he was able to answer all of his questions without hesitation. Led him into the cargo bay and showed him what he wanted to see. Gordon was able to do this without any hesitation, without any fear.

"Very good." His father was nodding at him, a smile breaking the stern look he had had when he had first approached him. "You seem to be acclimating to the size of the sub quite well."

"I told you, right? I said it the other day." Gordon was beaming at his father, leaning against one of the gray walls his arms crossed. "I just needed some time to get used to it was all."

"That you did."

"You need to trust me more, Dad. I know what I'm talking about." He pushed himself off of the wall and followed his father out of the sub. "I know myself pretty good."

"I admit, I was a little worried." His father stopped at the edge of the module were Virgil was waiting. "I'm glad to see your dong well." He patted Gordon on the shoulder.

Gordon looked past his dad to smile at Virgil who was just watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Dad, Scott's ready for you next."

"Right. Let's head up there."

"Gordon?" Virgil hung back as their father walked off toward the elevator to take him up to Thunderbird 1's level.

"Yeah?"

"You really okay?"

"Never felt better!" Gordon leaned on the side of the green module his arms crossed again.

"Just seems like a quick turn around from the way you were acting in the plane." Virgil had his arms crossed, and was frowning at Gordon still.

"Jeez, no faith, bro. That's cold." Gordon frowned and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the cement floor. It was fast and even he was worried that this was really just a fluke. Worried that once he let his guard down he'd be right back in that hydrofoil, trapped, unable to do anything. Gordon pasted a brighter smile on his face. "I've taken my time and have gotten used to it. Now it's no problem."

"Alright. If you say so." Virgil shrugged.

"You don't believe me?" Gordon wasn't so sure he believed himself to be honest.

"The jury is still out."

"Jeez aren't you a ray of sunshine." Yeah, because it is probably too much to hope for that his worries would be over.

"Call me a pessimist if you must. I would just rather wait and see how you handle her once we get her in the water."

"I'll be fine." Yeah, water, that was the next step.

"Prove it then. When it's time to take her into the water and you have no issues, then I'll be content that you've gotten over your claustrophobia."

"Trust me, you'll be eating your words for dinner that night." Gordon stuck his chin out and glared at his brother. He really wasn't as confident as he hoped he sounded. He probably had less confidence in himself than Virgil did.

"I hope so." Virgil looked Gordon up and down again before heading off to catch up with their father.


	4. Gliding Under the Surface

Chapter 4: Gliding Under the Surface

Gordon slept in his sub for the rest of the week. Each night seemed to come easier, yet after that first night the nightmares had returned. He was still able to work on his sub during the day, even with his father and Virgil breathing down his neck. The flashes of gray wall would still pop up when he found himself in the airlock, or under the sub, but he would just shake it away and keep on going—he, thankfully, had not had another blackout.

After the first seven days—days spent doing nothing but memorizing schematics, answering questions, and proving their knowledge, they finally took to the skies. The second week they concentrated on Thunderbird 2. It was Virgil's time to shine. They were all in the cockpit of Two—Virgil in the pilot's seat, Gordon in the co-pilot's seat, Alan behind Virgil, and Scott behind Gordon. This wasn't the first time Virgil had taken his bird up into the sky, but this was the first time the other's had experienced it.

Gordon was sitting in his chair, his hands clamped on the seat he sat on trying to hide the nervousness they betrayed. He had never been nervous like this before, and it annoyed him every moment he couldn't stop the shaking. He was watching Virgil though—their father had announced that he would be the first to pilot the big bird the next day, and Gordon saw this as the prime opportunity to prove that he was fit and ready for action, even if his mind was reeling at the idea of controlling such a large machine.

"How is this thing going to take off? Aren't we going a little slow?" Gordon was leaning forward and watched as the palm trees fell backwards to widen the path.

"With the size of this baby, it would take an air strip larger than the island itself to take off using the traditional method. We had to find a way to get her up to speed with as little length as possible." Virgil smiled as he glanced over at Gordon. The behemoth came to a stop as Virgil reached above him and flipped some more switches. "You'll stop right at this spot, three-hundred feet from the hanger. If you look in front there are some hidden markers to help you judge the distance."

"Okay, I'm curious." Scott was smiling as well, they were all smiling, excited. "How are we going to get the speed if we're standing still?"

"Once you are stopped, flip switches C1 through C5." Virgil finished flipping the switches and there was a jerk as the nose of Thunderbird 2 started to rise. "We'll use the thrusters to launch Two into the air."

"Launch?" Scott's voice cracked a little in shock. "The amount of force needed to launch something this size—"

"Don't worry, we did all the calculations and I've already tested her several times." Virgil glanced back at the eldest. "I would recommend you sit firmly in your seat, though, or you'll be getting to know the floor quite well."

Gordon's grin broadened as he leaned back in his seat—his hands still clenched tightly to the seat below him. "Hit her, Virgil. Show us what she's got."

"F.A.B." Virgil reached over and pushed the throttle all the way.

The ship rumbled beneath them and then shot forward pinning them to their seats.

"Wooohoo!" Gordon couldn't have been happier than he was at that moment. The rush of the plane, his brothers around him. It was right where he had fought for the past year to be. Yet, there was an image in the back of his head, an image of him on the deck of the hydrofoil as it took off, slowly speeding up and Gordon whooping with glee. He shook his head, he did not want to think of that. It wasn't the accident, well before it, but he knew if he thought about it too much it would put doubt in his mind. Doubt and the knowledge that it would only take one small mistake to make this bird go tumbling into the sea as well.

Virgil leveled off the plane and put her into a cruising altitude. "Settle down Gordon." Virgil laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

"Do you realize how fast we're going? In this huge ass thing!" Gordon blinked the memory away and pointed to the gages on the dash.

"I know!" Alan was bouncing in his seat as well, leaning over Virgil's shoulder looking at the controls. "Not that I didn't believe Brains but to see it—"

"I know right!" Gordon was on his feet too, leaning over Virgil as well, still pointing at the gauges. "Look at how steady she is." Alan's excitement was helping him forget, letting him get lost in the moment and he clung to it with all he had.

"Do you two mind?" Virgil pushed them both away. "You need to be paying attention. Tomorrow you both will be flying her." Virgil turned the wheel, banking to the right to take a few large laps around the island.

Gordon found himself on the pool deck once again, his tablet in hand as he went through the procedures for Thunderbird 2. He was tired, exhausted even. The small space of his sub wasn't keeping him up at night, but the persistent nightmares were. Even though he knew what to expect when he went to sleep, he still woke up in a cold sweat at least once a night, if not multiple times. He did what he could to counter the lack of sleep. Mostly coffee. Multiple cups.

When they had went up in Two earlier that day Gordon was running on five cups of coffee, black, and strong. Now, he was crashing and finding it hard to focus. The words on his tablet were blurring a little, and he knew he wasn't going to last long so he laid it down on his chest and leaned back in the chair, letting his eyes close for a moment.

"Gordon!"

Gordon jumped in his seat, his tablet falling off his chest and toppling onto the cement ground—though they too had been designed by Brains and it would take more than that to break one. He blinked several times, trying to get the image in front of him to focus. He had been sleeping hard, and woken much too quickly.

"Gordon, you okay?"

The person in front of him cleared up and Alan's blue gaze was looking down at him, a frown on his face, his eyebrows drawn together. Gordon rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and sat up.

"What's up?"

"You okay?" Alan was sitting on the edge of the chair, still watching him.

"Yeah, just tired." Gordon shook his head, trying to wake up a bit more. "Did you need something or just trying to bug me. Good job by the way if it's the latter."

"Well, if you're tired, I won't worry about it. I just thought, you know—getting revenge on John for the whole NASA thing?"

Gordon could't help but smile. "Sure. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Itching Powder in his body wash?"

"As funny as that would be, I don't want to do anything that would harm Dad's schedule. He didn't leave much flex time."

"True." Alan rocked back and pulled one leg up onto the lounger. "How about we lock him in his closet while he's sleeping? Remember when we did that to Virgil?" Alan laughed.

"No." Gordon's face was straight. His eyes cold.

"But it was so funny! Remember when he was yell—"

"I said, no, Alan." Gordon swung his legs off of the chair and leaned over picking up his tablet—not a scratch on it. "Being stuck, it's not fun."

"Oh." Alan hung his head. "Gordon, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"You're fine." Gordon shook his head and stood up. "I'm going to my room. I'll think about what we can do to John. Talk to you later." Gordon didn't look at Alan, just walked past him and back into the house.

He flopped down on his bed as soon as he could. He hadn't meant to snap at Alan like that, but the thought of waking up in a closet—even if it wasn't going to be him… no, he wouldn't do that to anyone ever again. Though he couldn't help a small smile at the memory of Virgil. He had woken up, hit his head, and banged on the door while he and Alan had sat just outside and laughed. They had left him, and Virgil stayed in that closet for almost six hours before their father found him.

Gordon sat up and blinked, wondering if Virgil ever had any issues with claustrophobia. He left his room and wandered next door to Virgil's. He wasn't there of course, it was too early to be heading to bed. Gordon made his way down to the lounge and found Virgil sitting on the edge of the roof, overlooking the pool below him and the low hanging sun in the distance.

"Hey." Gordon sat down next to him and swung his legs out over the pool, watching the sun's light dance on the water.

"Hey." Virgil had one of his sketch books in his hands busy at work on some artsy thing.

"Don't you have enough pictures of the ocean?"

"I'm not drawing the ocean."

"Looks like the ocean to me." Gordon leaned over a little to look at the book. There wasn't much on the page yet, he probably hadn't been out there for very long.

"Two o'clock, couple miles off." Virgil didn't look up from his drawing as he spoke.

Gordon did look up and into the direction indicated. There was nothing, just the gently rolling waves of the ocean. He had started to open his mouth, when something broke through the water. A large greyish black mass passed over the surface before going back under, and then a moment later it's huge tale flipped out and then disappeared as well. "Whales." Gordon exhaled his eyes wide.

"I saw them last night, but by the time I got back with my book they had disappeared."

"You think their breeding ground is nearby?"

"Couldn't say. You're the ocean expert." Virgil glanced quickly over at Gordon.

Gordon smiled a little too. "Yeah, guess I am. Breeding ground I'd say. We should keep a look out, might see some calves."

"So what brings you out here? Staring out at the ocean isn't really your thing."

"Hmm, maybe it should be." Gordon couldn't keep his eyes off of the gently rolling waves. "It is calming."

"No arguments there."

It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of nature and the scratching of pencil on paper. "Virgil?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever had issues with claustrophobia?"

"I thought you were getting over it?" Virgil suddenly looked over at him, his brows drawn together.

"I am! I am!" Gordon raised his hands and smiled back at him. "I just had a random thought, or memory. Remember when Alan and I locked you in the closet?"

Virgil snorted a little as he turned his attention back to the ocean. "One of your more annoying pranks. And if I remember right, it was more your doing than Alan's—he was only six at the time."

"Yeah, yeah. Details." Gordon waved it off. He was looking down at this hands, thin scars still apparent on his left. "Weren't you scared though? Not being able to get out? Especially after… well, we did leave you in there for a long time."

"Five hours and forty minutes."

Gordon glanced over, but Virgil was still watching the ocean, an occasional flick of his pencil across the paper.

"I was annoyed, but I knew I wasn't in danger. Nothing was going to happen to me. Anyways, I had some extra paper and pencils in there so I just sat and doodled." Gordon watched as a small smile tugged Virgil's lips. "When Dad finally opened the door I told him to close it. I wasn't finished with my picture and I didn't want to leave until it was done."

Gordon couldn't help but let a small chuckle out. "Well, it could have ended up a lot worse, and, well—I guess I just wanted to apologize."

Virgil turned and looked at Gordon, a blank look on his face. "Don't worry about it."

"Still though."

"I said just drop it. Don't worry about it. Nothing happened, it all turned out okay."

"Yeah, but."

"Gordon. It's alright."

"Right." Gordon sighed. "Well, I guess I'll head back in."

"Aren't you going to watch the whales?"

"Maybe another night." Gordon had hoped that the apology would have helped him feel better, not feel so guilty about it, but instead it almost made him feel worse.

Gordon was the first in the hanger the next morning, his sixth cup of coffee in one hand, his tablet in the other. He had went to bed that night not feeling the best. The day had gone by fine, he had been happy and excited and enjoyed the flight in Two. But it had ended on a sour note that he just couldn't shake.

Now, he was to be the first of his three remaining brothers to pilot Thunderbird 2—John was somehow being excused from this flight practice. Gordon had tried to fall asleep, but had once gain woken to the nightmares and stayed up the rest of the night trying to memorize the sequence for the big green machine. He shook his head again and took a sip of his coffee as he scrolled back to the beginning to try and read through it again.

"Gordon, wait up."

Gordon turned around to find Scott coming off of the elevator and walking quickly toward him.

"Hey, I want to talk to you."

Gordon couldn't help but roll his eyes. Scott had been fairly good since their arrival on the island. He did of course constantly ask if Gordon was alright, tried to be protective over him, but Virgil had done as he promised and was acting as a buffer, keeping Scott from being too much of a mother hen.

"Can't it wait? I'm trying to get these procedures memorized." Gordon waved the tablet at him.

"It will only take a second, promise." Scott had reached him and put an arm around his shoulder, looking down at him. "Let's go over here so we aren't interrupted." He led Gordon to the back of one of the standby modules off to the side of Thunderbird 2.

"What's up?"

Scott took hold of one of Gordon's shoulders and pushed him lightly up against the green container. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Gordon was wide eyed. Scott was close enough that he could smell the bacon he had had for breakfast on his breath.

"Make Alan cry."

"What? I didn't—"

"You two were talking by the pool and you said something and left. I was in the kitchen. Alan stayed out on the deck. He didn't move for the longest time so I went out to see what was up. He was, well, not crying, but he was majorly upset."

"I didn't mean—"

"Gordon. You know Alan just as well, if not better, than the rest of us. He looks up to all of us and takes any kind of disapproval to heart."

"Scott, I just turned down a prank idea."

"Look, it's been tough on him since you've been back."

"What do you mean?" Gordon slapped away Scott's arm making the older Tracy take a step back.

"The first day he was fine, he even said that you seemed like your old self. After that though, he's been walking on eggshells around you. You do realize that was the first time he's gotten your attention since then? He's been afraid to talk to you. You, of all people. When you were kids we couldn't separate you, now—" Scott took a few more steps away and shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Scott, I didn't mean—" Gordon's mind was in overdrive. What had he said? He hadn't thought he had said anything bad. He had even told him he'd try to think of an idea that night—not that he had, but he said he would try.

"I know you didn't, but you have to be more careful."

Gordon was getting frustrated and it was making it hard to think. Scott wasn't giving him the answers his mind demanded, yet he wasn't going to flat out ask what Alan was upset over, there shouldn't be anything to be upset over in the first place. Yet he apparently was, and that bothered Gordon. He was losing control and needed to change the topic, get it away from him and on Scott instead. "What, like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not the only one that's made Alan cry in the past year."

"Gordon—"

"No, Scott." Gordon lowered his voice as he heard the elevator ding and the voices of his brothers fill the hanger. "The second I got back from the undersea base Alan was calling me and he _was_ crying. I had to fly out to Kansas to see what was the matter." Gordon stepped forward and pushed Scott a little, looking up at the taller man. "You had been nothing but a grumbling Gus from the moment you had gotten home. Anytime Alan tried to talk to you, you turned him down. Even Dad had mentioned how put offish you were when you had first gotten back."

"I was dealing with some issues." Scott looked away from Gordon.

"And I'm not?" That had been the wrong thing to say. He knew it the second it had left his mouth. "Look, I didn't mean to upset him. I'll apologize to him when we're done."

Gordon tried to walk away, he needed to get out of this situation now, but Scott had him by the shoulders again, and pushed him harder against the module. "Gordon, are you fit to fly?"

Gordon stared at Scott wide eyed. Had he figured something out? Did he know he was running on fumes and caffeine? No, there was no way he would know, no way he would understand what was going through Gordon's mind. "I'm as fit as you are." Gordon pushed Scott away and made his way to the cockpit of Thunderbird 2 where he knew Virgil and Alan were now waiting.

Gordon had done it, it felt like his heart was about to pop out of his chest by the time he landed and he hadn't flown perfectly, but he had done it. He had flown Thunderbird 2. The feel of that monster under his control was nothing he had felt before. It didn't even compare to the hydrofoil as it had taken off at full speed. Though he did have to shake visions from his head a couple of times as those thoughts crossed his mind. He still wanted to switch a couple of the steps on take off, but Virgil was there to help him—caught him and corrected him even. He even apologized to Alan, who smiled and told him it was alright. Gordon knew better though, they had all protected Alan as he grew up, and partially because of that, he still needed some protection now—mainly from themselves it seemed. He would have to try and figure out something to do to John to get Alan's full trust back again.

His other brothers all had turns, and they all forgot a step here or there as well, none of them were perfect, which made Gordon feel a little better. He was still on edge—whether from the stress, the coffee, or both he didn't know. He went straight to his room to try and calm down, but he was teed up and just paced. Unable to relax he took his tablet back down to Four and worked on his own procedures. One and a half more weeks and he'd be taking Four for its first test.

Gordon sat in the small cockpit, looking out the windows at the rocky wall of the hanger beyond the module and tried to imagine water all around him. It wasn't hard, and it didn't bother him. He acted as if he were starting her up, listing the steps in order and pretending to flip the switches as he did. He went over the steps again and again and again. He wouldn't be caught off guard.

He woke to some knocking and jumped at Virgil's frown looking at him through the windows of the sub. Gordon rubbed his face and then leaned back and crawled from the cockpit. Virgil was waiting for him by the rear air lock.

"Time for bed."

"What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Little early isn't it?"

"Dad wants us all to hit the hay early, said he was really going to put us through the paces tomorrow."

"We're just flying Two some more right?"

"Yeah, and a few small scenarios." Virgil shrugged as he stepped out of the way to give Gordon room to get out. "Plus, you could use some extra sleep. Been looking a little ragged."

"I'm fine." Gordon yawned and stretched his arms up into the air. "Been taking naps anyways."

"So I've noticed. Sleeping okay otherwise?"

Gordon shrugged, he didn't want to admit to anything, but knew if he lied too much he would slip eventually so a little truth wouldn't hurt. "Sometimes I don't sleep well. I get to worrying about what we'll be doing the next day. Thinking about it, unable to stop."

"Now, that I can believe." Virgil patted Gordon's shoulder and squeezed it as they made their way across the hanger to the elevator. "You did good today. I was hesitant to believe that you were okay, but maybe you are."

"You got to have more faith in me!" Gordon smiled at his brother and slapped him on the back.

"Gordon." Virgil stopped Gordon from getting onto the elevator. "I'm still worried about you."

Gordon opened his mouth to argue but stopped. "I know." Gordon lowered his gaze, but a small smile remained on his lips. "I'm not at one-hundred precent. But I'll be okay. I've survived this far, I'll keep going."

"Don't be afraid to ask for help. That's what I'm here for. It's what we're all here for."

"I know." Gordon avoided Virgil and ducked into the elevator, holding it open for his brother. "Come on, bed time, right?"

"Right."

They had each flown Two several times, even taking her to her limits and back. The previous day had been spent performing a mock rescue with all of the brothers aboard Two. Their father had arranged for an accident out in the middle of the Australian outback. The brothers had to rescue some dummies and recover the vehicles. Then that morning they had another rescue, this one real. Their father had arranged for them to help with a forest fire in California. They had spent ten hours helping the fire fighters to control, put out sections of burning forest, and trying their best to keep locals safe. It was their first look at the type of things they would be doing every day once the organization was up and running.

"Gordon?"

Gordon was in Four, still partially in his gear—having shed the bulkier portions of it in the hanger, but still had black soot in his hair and covering his face. Their father had ordered them to the showers when they had gotten back but Gordon still had not gotten the guts to undress around his brothers—even swimming he would wear a rash guard, the scars on his back a flashing neon sign to what he was trying not to think too much about.

"Gordon, you in here?"

"Yeah, Alan. In the cargo hold." Gordon wasn't doing anything with his bird. He was just sitting there looking over the specs of Two yet again. They would be going out on another mock rescue tomorrow and then the day after would be their first day in One.

Alan peeked though the airlock, his hair wet and his skin shiny. "Aren't you going to take a shower?"

"Yeah, I will here in a bit." Gordon glanced up and smiled at his brother.

"You busy?" Alan was still just peeking into the ship, chewing on his lower lip.

"No, come on in, sit down." Gordon laid down the tablet and patted the floor next to him.

Alan smiled a little, but sat down across from him instead. "I just spent an hour getting that soot off, I don't want to touch any more."

Gordon laughed as he rubbed at his face. "Yeah, but I imagine this won't be our last time getting dirty like this."

"No, probably not. Hopefully we'll have more comfortable outfits though. I don't get how those fire fighters wear those all the time."

"Because it keeps them safe."

"Yeah, but they are not cool at all." Alan plucked at the t-shirt he had on and then pulled his knees up to his chest.

"What's on your mind?"

"I can't just sit here?"

"Sure, but you rarely just sit there." Gordon smirked. "Thought of any good ideas to get John back? I've been coming up blank myself."

"Well, I did have one idea."

"Hm? Looks like it might be a good one. Spill." Gordon smiled wider at his brother.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said before, about not wanting to delay Dad's timeline any. So that nixed any kind of itching powder or other mild allergen."

"Right, and I am quite impressed that you're talking like you have a stock of various possible allergens."

"You didn't think I'd willing come to a secluded island with all of my brothers without some stock of possible pranking materials?"

"Alan, I couldn't be more proud of you than at this moment." Gordon rolled over onto his knees and reached forward to ruffle Alan's hair.

"Hey, I just took a shower!" Alan tried to scramble away but Gordon caught his ankle and pulled him back towards him.

"Well, you're just going to have to take another one." Gordon pulled his brother into a tight hug, rubbing his face on Alan's to try and get as much soot on him as he could.

"Alright, already!" Alan frowned as Gordon finally let go and leaned back against the wall of the cargo hold, grunting as he did. "You okay?"

"Back is a little sore." Gordon waved it off. "I'll take some pain killers and I'll be fine. Don't worry. Now, back to your revenge plot."

"Oh, right. Well, I was looking through my stash and found the perfect thing. Something that will make us laugh, but also something that will stay with him for most of the day."

"I'm listening." Gordon couldn't help but lean forward, his back twitching in protest, but had his full attention on Alan. He was still a big brother, and had to make sure he didn't disappoint his little brother again.

It was two days later. Gordon stood between Alan and Virgil, John on Virgil's other side. They were facing Scott and their father, standing in the hanger at the base of Thunderbird 1. Scott was trying to explain to them the mechanics as well as the operating instructions for his bird, but was struggling to keep his smile concealed. He would look down at the floor or up at his bird and clear his throat and then he would look back at his brothers, a serious look on his face. Alan, Gordon, Virgil, and then John. He couldn't keep a straight face looking at John, the smile would break out and he would be looking away again.

Gordon was starting to wonder just how long this was going to take, but at the same time he was enjoying it completely. Their father wasn't doing any better. He had his left arm across his chest, his right hand over his mouth trying to cover up the smile underneath. He looked to his right at Alan who was beaming and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally glancing over in John's direction. Virgil, on his left, had his arms crossed. He was looking between John on his other side, Gordon and Alan, and Scott. Prepared to intercede should something happen.

Gordon leaned forward a little and looked down at John. He was taking everything in stride like he always did. Gordon was sure he knew Alan would target him, knew he was in on it as well. Probably wasn't at all surprised when he opened his book and a glitter bomb exploded in his face. He had sighed after it had happened—Gordon and Alan had hid nearby to watch. John was smart enough to know that if he did not react to it, it would only promise more pranks in the future so he stood up threw his book on the floor and yelled for the two youngest. It was then Gordon and Alan ran off laughing their heads off. So now, John stood next to his brothers, his face and hair sparkling under the lights of the hanger and not looking particularly happy about it.

Scott had tried for the third time to continue his lecture but finally sighed and leaned his head in a hand. "I'm sorry. John, are you sure you couldn't get that stuff off?"

"I scrubbed my face raw, Scott. Believe it or not, I did get most of it off."

Gordon couldn't stop a burst of giggles from erupting.

"Gordon." Their father cleared his throat and was trying to frown at them. "Is there a trick for getting the glitter off?"

"Not—not that I—" Gordon couldn't even complete the sentence. He had done this originally for Alan, but realized quickly that he had needed it as well.

"Alright, let's take a quick break. Gordon, Alan, help your brother clean up." Their father was smiling openly now, a chuckle under his breath. "We'll come back in a half an hour and get started."

"Yes, sir." The brother's chorused amid the laughter.

"Alright you two." John was behind them, his hands on their shoulders.

Gordon was laughing but could feel John lean down so that his head was next to his own.

"It's good to see you smile, Gordon."

Gordon looked over and John was smiling at him, though he didn't quite know what he had meant by the comment. He had smiled plenty of times. But now he was happy and laughing, and it felt good.

They were able to get most of the glitter off of John's face, but luckily not out of his hair—without pulling it out at least. They had reconvened and were able to get through the lecture with mostly straight faces before Gordon and Alan joined Scott in One. Gordon had to admit he was a bit more nervous than he had been in Two. Yes, Two had launched itself into the air, and had achieved a maximum of mach 6 at one point—not quite five-thousand miles per hour. That had caused Gordon some issues. Issues he had been able to ignore for the most part. Thunderbird One however could make it up to mach 20. Over three times faster than the tortoise. Gordon hoped Scott wouldn't push her that hard, he had no reason to, but that worry still nagged at him as they strapped down in the jump seats.

"This is going to be so awesome!" Alan was bouncing in his seat, kicking his legs straight out above him—they were of course laying on their backs while Scott's chair sat above them.

"I'm glad you're excited." Scott looked down at them as the rocket jerked a little and started its trek to the launch pad. "You okay Gordon?"

"Yeah." Gordon had to swallow a little lump in his throat. The launch shouldn't be an issue. As far as speed it would be about the same as Two, but One was a little bit smaller—the bulkhead only a few feet above him, and Alan's shoulder right next to him. "Just a little nervous."

"Don't worry, I've been testing her as much as possible once Dad decided it was safe enough."

"Yeah, no. I'm not worried about that." Gordon forced a smile on his lips when he noticed that Alan had calmed down a little. "I just haven't had the experience with extreme g-force like you two."

Alan's frown disappeared and a smile replaced it. "Oh are you in for the thrill of your life! If you thought Two was fun, this is going to be even better!"

"I bet!" Gordon took hold of Alan's energy. It was best to concentrate on that than to worry about that other stuff. "This is going to make Four feel like a rowboat."

"No kidding!" Alan laughed and punched Gordon in the arm. "I can't wait till we take Three out, she's even faster!"

"Faster?" Gordon cleared his throat.

"I doubt Dad will let us open her up right away, but I am looking forward to it myself. Never been in space."

"Yeah, I am super excited!"

"Yeah, me too." Gordon wasn't, but that wasn't something he needed to worry about right now.

The rocket jerked to a stop as sunlight filtered in through the one set of windows up near Scott. He recited off the final points of the checklist, flipping switches near his head as the engines below them started to rumble.

Gordon had been wrong. Quite wrong. One took off significantly faster than Two had. He had held onto his shoulder restraints and made some sort of noise as they took off. He wasn't sure what kind of noise it was, he had clamped his teeth together and was only partially aware of Alan staring at him.

"You okay, back there?" Scott's chair had swung around so that they were now behind him, rather than under them.

It took a moment for Gordon to unlock his jaw and answer. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure? Look a little pale there." Alan had his hand on Gordon's leg.

"Yeah, just wasn't quite expecting that. What a rush!" He forced a smile onto his face and could see Alan relax a little.

"Alright, we'll start off a little slow and speed it up. I promise not to do anything too crazy." Gordon could hear the laughter in Scott's voice.

"Yeah, simple is good. Remember, I am a bit out of my element here." Gordon kept the smile on his face and the remark was met with some laughter.

"Literally." Alan continued to laugh as he stretched to look out of the window at the ocean passing below them. "How fast are we going now, Scott?"

"Just a little over mach four." Scott was looking forward, his eyes constantly on the controls.

"Aw, come on, she can go much faster than that!"

"Do you think you can handle it?" Scott glanced back at them a smile on his face.

"You do realize who you are talking to right?" Alan was beaming as he turned to Gordon.

"Yeah, I think I'm good." Gordon's smile felt frozen on his face, but he didn't want to ruin the fun for Alan.

"Alright, hold on!"

Gordon could feel the pressure as Alan whooped next to him. At first it wasn't too bad. He was doing good, it was fast, he was a little freaked out, but he concentrated on breathing, he just needed to make sure to breath in and out.

He had been floating for some time now. His voice was gone, his throat raw. His hand burned from banging on the bulkhead, the skin torn but not bleeding too much. He wasn't even sure anyone else had survived, or if they had, were even there anymore. It would have taken search and rescue almost two hours to reach them. They would have been there by now. If anyone else had survived they were long gone, and who knew when they would come back for the bodies. By the time they did, he would be counted among them, he was sure. He closed his eyes, and breathed slowly, wishing that if he was destined to die, it would just happen.

That thought didn't last long though. He didn't want to die. Not here, not now. He wanted to see his family again. He promised Alan he would be there to see him graduate from college, to see him enter NASA. He was going to be there next time John went to space, next time Virgil did anything interesting. He would be there when Scott realized he needed the Air Force and stopped moping around and went back to do the thing he does best. He wanted to see his father again. To see that smile on his face when he told him he was proud of him. He wanted to work on that doodle, to make something useful—hey, maybe that was something interesting Virgil could do, help him with that.

Gordon let a smile play across his face. He wouldn't die here. He still had plenty of air, and they would come back eventually. They would come back, search for the bodies and find him, alive.

"Gordon!"

Gordon blinked, his breath catching in his throat.

"He's coming around." It was Alan's voice, shaky and worried. "Come on Gordon."

"Gordon?" Different voice, Scott's.

His vision was blurry, but everything around him was gray, but it wasn't the hydrofoil. Two figures were in front of him, light and dark. "What…"

"Sorry, Gordon." Scott sighed as he patted his leg.

Gordon reached up and could still feel the shoulder restraints on him. "I—I blacked out?"

"Yeah, took it a little too far." Scott was frowning, his brows furrowed.

"It was awesome though!" Alan was bouncing next to him, that wasn't making the headache any better.

"Here." Scott had taken his hand and dropped something in it, then put a bottle in the other. "Take them, it'll help."

"Where are we?" Gordon was starting to wake up a bit more, his vision clearing, the memory of his dream still fairly fresh.

"We're still in One." Scott waved his hand around them. "Hovering over the Baltic Sea."

"Why?"

"Because you passed out, and Alan almost did." Gordon could see the small sad smile on Scott's lips. "I got carried away and started going a bit too fast."

"I passed out before Alan? Aw, man, I'm not going to hear the end of that." Gordon took the excuse. It probably was the speed that had caused him to black out, but it had also been the pressure on his back that had forced him to relive that part of his memories. However, that memory had also reminded him of something. Something he was starting to forget. He would not give up. He was not the type to do that kind of thing. He would keep going on no matter what happened. That was the kind of guy he was.

"Are you okay, Gordon?"

Gordon blinked and looked up at Scott. "Yeah. I'm fine. Think I'm going to have to call it a day though. Pulled my back or something. Need to lay down and let it work itself out."

"Aw, jeez, Gordon. I didn't even think." Scott had his head in one hand. "I'm sorry. I—I was just excited to show her to you."

"No worries!" Gordon slapped the smile back on. "Nothing a few pain killers and a nap on the floor won't fix. This is just another hurdle that we both need to work on." Gordon looked over at Alan who was still sitting in his own seat, the shoulder restraints up.

"Yeah. If we can't handle the speed of this baby, we'll all be passed out when we ride in Three."

"Yeah, wouldn't want that." Gordon chuckled a little.

"Dad's going to yell at you though, isn't he?" Alan had lost the smile that was on his face as he turned to the eldest.

"Probably, but it is earned. I wasn't thinking and could have harmed both of you. I'm sorry."

"Live and learn." Alan nodded and scooted back in his seat pulling the shoulder restraints down. "Let's get home and get it over with."

They all three stood in the lounge before their father. Scott had told them not to come, had tried to order Gordon to bed, but neither of them had listened.

"I'm quite disappointed in you Scott."

"Yes, sir."

"It wasn't all his fault." Alan frowned as he crossed his arms. "I was egging him on, telling him to go faster."

"Alan, no." Scott held up a hand to stop the young Tracy and Alan humphed a little in reply. "We are going to be doing something very dangerous. If I allow myself to be 'egged on' by anyone, it could mean any number of lives, mine and yours included. I shouldn't have let my ego take over, I should have been paying attention to flying and going by the routine Dad had set up."

"Scott is correct." His father was looking at all of them. "We don't have the room for small mistakes. Even those kind cost lives. The very lives we are trying to save. You all need to be ever so conscious as to what you are doing and what those actions are going to effect. Your every move could mean the difference between life and death."

Gordon looked down at the floor. His father was right, he didn't have time to worry about his issues. He needed to concentrate on being prepared for what they were trying to do. He needed to get all the machines memorized, get used to One, fly her, and get Four into the water. Once he was able to ride in One at her faster speeds, Three may not be so bad—Gordon made a mental note to find out just how much speed was necessary to escape the Earth's gravity.

He spent the rest of the day like he said he would. On his back, on the floor, with his feet propped up on the bed reading over the schematics. He was still a little worried about Three. Escape velocity from the Earth was a staggering mach thirty-two and a half—twenty-five thousand miles per hour. They had only been at mach fifteen when Gordon had passed out. Not even half as fast. There was time though, they still had almost two weeks until they were due to head up to Five.

Gordon had made his decision as they stood there before their father. He would not be afraid of his memories, of the what ifs, of anything. He was going to concentrate on the here and now and do what he needed to do.

He was back in his sub that night, laying flat on the floor—his back still a bit achey. He had his tablet above him going over the flight procedures for One. Scott had asked him over dinner if he had wanted to delay his first flight by a day or something, to ride in her again and get used to her. Gordon had declined. He wasn't going to try and fly her at mach fifteen by no means—mach ten was going to be a stretch. He would fly her through, and even if he had to fly or ride in her multiple times a day he would be able to survive in her at her fastest. He only had two weeks, he would do it.

He let his arm fall down next to him with a sigh. It was getting late, he needed to get to bed. He sat up and looked around the small sub. He had started with the doors open and slowly closed them. He had no problem sitting in there anymore, but he knew he wasn't out of trouble yet. He was still avoiding the airlocks when he could. They still scared him, probably because of what happened the last time he had gotten caught in one, but he knew he had to keep pushing himself.

So he picked up his pillow and blanket opened the inner door of the main airlock and made himself a bed between the two doors before closing himself in. He stood there for a moment, his eyes closed, taking in measured breaths, and waited to see if it would be an issue. Moments passed and no images came to his mind. He took a deep breath and released it. It would be a quite night, he was sure.


	5. Into the Depths

Chapter 5: Into the Depths

Gordon's head ached, and not just in the normal had a bad day too much going on kind either. This was very much the banged around and hit his head type of ache. How did he know? Kids tended to play rough, and he did grow up with four brothers. He groaned a little and tried to raise his hand to his head to find the source, only he couldn't move his right hand.

He quickly opened his eyes. It was dark, wherever he was, but he could see the wall in front of his face. A gray wall with a line of rough cut rivets down it. Water was sloshing in his ears and he was able to pull his left hand free. He felt around and quickly found the bump that was the culprit but no blood, so he had just banged it good. He reached down behind him in the water and could feel the hunk of metal that was pinning him down. He tried to push at it, but a shot of white hot pain raced through him—a jerk, a scream, and he was choking on water.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and pointed his senses inward. His left hand was floating near his head, free of obstacle and pain. His right arm hurt but he could move his fingers a little. His legs though, and his feet. He couldn't tell if they were in water or not—couldn't tell if he were moving them at all. He could feel the pressure on his back, though, a steady force that made it hard to breath. He could feel his heart beat, fast and uneven. He reached up with his left hand and slammed it against the wall before him, again and again, the rivets digging into his palm. Someone had to be there, someone that could help him, someone that could save him, but there was no response, not even the echo of his own pounding.

Gordon gasped as he sat up, his hand cold and sweaty on the wall next to him, his other hand on his face. He stretched his feet and his toes and moved his legs to reassure himself that he was not there again. He was safe. He reached up the wall next to him, grasping for the handle that would open the airlock.

The inner door banged open and he collapsed on the wider floor of the cargo bay. He crawled out of the airlock and pressed his forehead to the cool floor, his eyes closed trying to take in steadier breaths. He dreamt of his time stuck in the hydrofoil often, and he would wake from the dreams knowing that was all they were—just dreams, memories of that time. This one was more. He could remember the pain, the struggle it was to just breath. He could feel the desperation of wanting someone to know he was there, and the fear that they thought he was already dead, that he _would_ end up dead.

He punched the floor and gasped as a sob escaped. He couldn't understand why he was so weak, why he couldn't just move on and get on with his life. He pushed himself over onto his back, wiped at his eyes, and tried to control the ragged breaths he was taking. He wasn't going back to sleep this time. Instead he pushed himself up and grabbed his tablet. He thought about staying there in Four, but it was hot and stuffy and the close confines were not making him feel any better. He decided to go for a little walk instead and made his way to the pool deck. It would be cooler out there, and he would be able to concentrate on his studies better. There was still plenty for him to go over for the following day. He had done well in Two, so now he had to prove to himself that he could do it in One. He would not let this weaknesses stop him from becoming the type of man his father needed, the type of man his brothers already were.

Week three, day two of testing and training. It was time for them to take One out on their own and Gordon was second to go. Their father's logic was that if Scott could not fly for some reason, Alan would be the next in line since he had the most flight experience. The next after that was Gordon. It really should have been Virgil, Gordon wasn't real big on flying—give him a row boat any day over a plane, but Virgil would be needed in Two. So Gordon was next.

Alan's flight was perfect, he was just as good a pilot as Scott—if not better, and there had been nothing but praise when they had returned after their quick jaunt.

Gordon stepped up into the pilot seat of One and got comfortable as it pulled itself into the plane. Scott was in the jump seat below him, ready to help should anything happen.

"How are you feeling today, Gordon?"

"Little nervous, but otherwise excited." Gordon was lying through his teeth. He was more than just a little nervous. He had spent the rest of the night going over the launch sequence, had memorized everything, but his head was full of doubt.

He took a deep breath and stretched his hands a little, flexing his fingers. He reached up above him and started to flip switches, closing the door next to him and initiating the rocket's trek to the launch platform.

Scott was quiet below him, but Gordon could feel his eyes on him, watching his every move. The plane jerked to a stop and the light above filtered into the launch bay. He reached up and flipped a few more switches, the engines under him rumbling to life. He gripped the throttle and pulled back. The ship hesitated for just a moment before slowly advancing on the opening. It felt like they were moving in slow motion, Gordon didn't remember it taking so long to get out of the launch pad before and started to wonder if he had forgotten something. He was still looking around, making sure everything was where it should be when the rocket sprang forward, jerking Gordon against the seat.

"You're doing good, Gordon, but One wasn't meant for space flight. Might want to level her off."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Gordon's hands were shaking, but he flipped a couple more switches and pulled a lever which leveled One out. He was doing it, he was flying One. However, he wasn't feeling all that great. His stomach was in knots, his hands were sweating, his vision kept wanting to blur a bit. They weren't even going that fast, only mach 7, but he was quickly losing what little confidence he had in himself.

They weren't to be in the sky long. Just a couple laps around the Pacific, but Gordon was already starting to fear the landing. He had to be able to land One right where she had taken off from. Two had a huge space in which to land, but One—if he was even a little off in any direction, the plane itself would be damaged as well as the deck and the launch pad—not to mention him and Scott.

"Just one more lap, Gordon."

"F-F.A.B." When he had flown Two, Virgil was constantly talking to him. He explained more of the controls, what his bird could do, what it couldn't do—pretty much everything that was in the schematics. Gordon knew these things, but he was glad Virgil was talking, it helped him to concentrate, to keep his mind on what he was doing.

Scott was silent. He just watched and waited. The silence allowed Gordon's mind to wander, to think of all the ways he could mess up.

He shook his head and tightened his hold on the throttle, feeling the hum of the machine around him.

"Gordon, what is that gauge saying?" She was a nice girl, strawberry blond and sharp as a tack.

"It's still in the green." Gordon was smiling. It wasn't his shift on the bridge of the ship, but he had wandered up knowing she was there, and he had nothing else to do at the moment.

"Yeah, but it's higher than normal." She looked over at him, a frown on her face.

"Not by much, something probably just got stuck. Won't stay there for long."

"Still it worries me."

"Gordon!"

He blinked and the hydrofoil and the sweet blond were gone.

"Gordon, pull up!"

He looked at the controls and did as he was told, only a little too hard causing the plane to start spinning.

"Calm down and level her off."

"I-I'm t-trying." His mind had gone blank. He didn't know what anything did. None of the controls made sense. Scott was trying to help him, but he couldn't quite hear him over the sounds in his head—the strawberry blond screaming for her life as the hydrofoil tumbled around them.

Gordon stood with his forehead pressed against the cold white tile of the shower. He was in the locker room—the shower was nothing more than an open area with six shower heads and one big drain in the middle. He still had his flight suit on, the spandex like material repelling the water as it sprayed down upon him, his hair plastered to his face.

He punched at the wall, cursing at his stupidity. Scott had taken control of One remotely and was able to get them back to the island safely. However, Gordon had failed. He had proven the opposite of what he wanted. He had shown his father just how inept he was.

"Gordon." It was Scott, hanging back next to the half wall that separated the shower from the changing area.

"Leave me alone." The images that had plagued him in the plane were still on the fringes of his memory, still threatening. He couldn't talk to anyone right now, especially Scott.

"Look, Gordon, you did fine. We don't expect any of us to be perfect the first time out."

"I almost crashed, I could have killed both of us." He punched the wall again and ground his teeth. He just needed space, time to calm down and they were not letting him.

"No you couldn't. That was one of the reasons Brains made it possible to control them remotely."

"Scott, please. You're really not helping." He wasn't. He really wasn't. Just leave. Just. Leave.

"Gordon."

"Leave!" He hadn't meant to yell, couldn't remember ever just yelling at Scott like that. Gordon didn't want to turn around, afraid Scott was still standing there—all worried about him and wanting to give him hugs because he believed that that always made things better.

Finally Gordon chanced a look, but he was gone. He sighed and turned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. Finally, just some time. He just needed some time to cool down, to get these stupid memories out of his head, get these stupid ideas out of his head. However, no matter how much he tried to clear his mind, to concentrate on the sound of the water around him, his mind wandered. How bad would it have been to have crashed like that? Would it have been worse? Would it have killed him this time? Would it have killed Scott? He knew they would morn Scott—Scott was everyone's idol—but would they morn him, or would they just blame him?

"Gordon."

Gordon snapped his head up, the water had been turned off, and Virgil was kneeling in front of him.

"What do you not understand about leaving me alone?" He sniffed a little, hadn't realized he had started to cry.

"This isn't like you."

"Well, you're the one that said it. I'm not me anymore. This is just the new me. Unable to do anything."

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you not see it? The huge disaster that was me trying to fly One?" Gordon swung his arm out. The imagined image of One going down with him in the pilot seat fresh in his mind.

"So you messed up. We aren't all going to be as good as Scott and Alan."

"I need to be. I have to show him that I'm not some handicapped has been."

"Gordon, what are you talking about?"

"Dad expected more out out of me." He had his head in his hands again, his breath was come faster and faster. "If I can't prove to him I can do this he's going to ground me. I'm never going to be able to pilot Four. I'm never going to be part of this organization. He's going to ground me, Virgil. I'm just going to be poor little Gordon, broken and unfixable! Should have just crashed and finished it all." He hadn't meant to say all that, it had just burst from him, uncensored, unprotected.

"Gordon, slow down a second." Virgil sat down, scooted closer to him and laid a hand on Gordon's chest, pushing on it to keep him from hyperventilating. "Take a breath and hold it."

Gordon did as he was told, but could only hold it for a moment, the tears escaping as a sob cut through his throat.

"Gordon, deep breaths. Look at me."

Gordon just shook his head, didn't look up, but tried to take deeper breaths, the tears running down his face mixing with the water from his hair.

Virgil waited, patient as always, until Gordon had better control. "Okay, what is going on?"

"I just about killed Scott." He didn't care about himself, but he didn't want to be the reason their precious Scott was no longer with them.

"No, you didn't. Scott is fine. You are fine."

Gordon lifted his head and finally looked Virgil in the eyes. He was still taking deep breaths trying to control himself but the tears rolled down his face, his arms tight around his torso. "I can't do it."

"Gordon?"

"I can't do it Virg. I can't. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough."

"You are plenty strong, Gordon. This is just—it's not you."

"It is me. That's the problem." Gordon shook his head. "I'm broken, something is broken and I can't fix it." He leaned back and hit his head against the tile wall, once, twice, before Virgil reached up and stopped him.

"No, Gordon. This isn't you."

Gordon looked away, pulled his knees tighter to him.

Virgil sat and stared at Gordon for a moment before sighing. "You're not taking your medicine are you? I was even trying to slip it to you so the others wouldn't notice."

"I don't want to rely on it."

"Gordon, this—" He waved his hand at Gordon. "This is because you're not taking it. This is what happens when you don't use the tools given to help you."

"I don't need drugs! I don't want to be someone who can't control their own selves without the help of—of—that."

"And look at you Gordon! When you were just going through therapy maybe you didn't need it. But this is more than just therapy. This is way more. Even I'm questioning my ability to fly One, I can't even imagine what is going through your head."

"The truth. I'm seeing the truth! I can't do it. It's too much. It just shows how weak I am. How broken I am."

"You are not weak, Gordon. You're sick. That is all, just sick and you need the medicine to get better."

"That medicine is a crutch. Poor Gordon has to take happy pills to function." Gordon had settled down a little, he wasn't crying, wasn't breathing as hard, but he was still shaking and felt completely exhausted.

"What is so wrong with a crutch? Everyone always uses them as a show of weakness. But it helps you walk, it keeps you going while you heal. If you didn't have a crutch you wouldn't be able to do anything."

Gordon was silent. He didn't know what else to say, how else to make Virgil see how pointless this argument was. He could feel another wave of anguish wash over him as if the shower had been turned on again. He just curled up tighter and started to cry again, a ragged sob escaped once again. He felt so helpless as if he were back in that hospital bed depending on everyone to help him again.

Virgil pulled him in to a tight hug and just sat there. Gordon could feel Virgil's breath in his hair, and could hear his heartbeat in his chest. Somehow it was a comfort, and it allowed him to calm down again.

Virgil sighed, maybe he finally realized that none of his arguments made any sense. "Come on, let's get you to your room."

Gordon didn't argue, he was too tired, to drained for anything else. He let Virgil pull him to his feet, his arm was around him as he led him out of the locker room. The rest of his family was waiting in the hall. Virgil made sure to put himself between Gordon and them, kept Gordon's head down and led him past them.

"Gordon!" It was Alan.

Gordon glanced past Virgil and could see his three brothers all looking at him, frowning, their eyebrows drawn together. Gordon didn't even look at his father, didn't want to see the disappointment on his face as well.

"Gordon, wait!"

"Alan, let him be."

"But Dad!"

"Do as Dad says." It was Scott.

"But—"

"Alan." John this time.

"But..."

They had made their way along the hall and to a secondary elevator that would take them up into the house. "What are you going to tell them? Gordon's gone crazy?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? They're not going to be satisfied with that. Especially Alan. He's not going to give up. I should know, I taught him." Gordon tried to crack a smile, but his whole body felt heavy, it was taking all he had not to fall down on the spot and curl up in the corner.

"Finally admitting to it, huh?" Virgil glanced over at him, a small smile on the corner of his own lip. "Knew you two hung out way too much."

"It's a big brother's job, isn't it?"

"I must have failed big time then." Virgil opened Gordon's door and ushered him inside. Gordon could feel Virgil's hand tighten on his shoulder a little. "Where's your bedding?"

Gordon flopped down on the empty bed, unable to stand anymore. He wasn't tried, yet he was exhausted. "It's in Four. I've been sleeping down there."

"You've been what? For how long?" Virgil turned on Gordon, his brows drawn together. "And more importantly, why?"

Gordon sighed. He really wasn't in the mood, but knew it was best to just get it out or Virgil wouldn't leave him alone. "I've been sleeping in Four. For several days now—the past couple of weeks actually. It was the best way I could think of to get over my claustrophobia. Good news, it worked."

"That was reckless on so many levels." Virgil was pacing now, glancing at Gordon on every turn.

Gordon didn't have the energy for Virgil at the moment. He didn't have the energy for anything. He didn't understand it, didn't really care. Instead he just rolled over so he was facing the wall.

"Gordon?"

"Just let me be." Gordon heard a sigh and a moment later his door closed. He took a deep breath, and stared at the wall unable to drift into the nothingness he desired.

"Gordon."

He felt himself being shook but found it difficult to open his eyes. He had just drifted off to sleep, but had started to dream of the accident again.

"Come on, Gordon. Wake up."

It was Virgil. He wasn't sure if he was happy or annoyed at him for waking him, nightmare or not, at least he was sleeping and his nightmare was starting to sound better than the reality around him. He felt a hand force him onto his back and support him as his torso was lifted up into a sitting position.

"Wake up just a little. You need to take this."

Gordon sighed and blinked, finally opening his eyes. A small cup was put next to his lips and Gordon opened his mouth. One small pill was tipped into it. Gordon tried to swallow it, but it had already stuck to his tongue making him gag. Another cup was put to his lips and some water was tipped into his mouth. It took a couple of tries, but the pill finally went down.

He could feel the zipper being pulled on the back of the flight suit he was still wearing and the spandex being pulled off of his body. He didn't realize how warm he had gotten till the cool air touched his skin making him shiver. There was a prick in his arm and he was laid back down, his pillow suddenly under him. The rest of the flight suit was pulled off, and some cotton pants pulled on. Then his blanket was laid on top of him. Virgil didn't say anything during all this, and Gordon just curled up and drifted into nothingness.

When Gordon finally woke up on his own, he didn't know what time it was, what day it was, or for a moment even where he was. He couldn't even remember dreaming of anything, and could just barely remember Virgil changing his clothes and covering him up. He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around him room. The sun was shining into the windows, though his mind was so muddled he couldn't even remember which side of the island his windows were on and thus if it was morning or evening.

He swung his legs off the bed and wiggled his toes—just to make sure they were still working and then stood up. He had to grab the side table to keep himself from falling. He stood there for a moment—panic rising up in him, and he had to take a couple of deep breaths and forced the panic back where it had come from. He took a cautious step and then another. His legs were working just fine. He took it slow anyways and made his way down to the kitchen.

He wasn't really all that hungry, but felt as if it had been awhile since he had eaten. He took the next set of stairs slowly and then was hesitant to pass by the lounge. If his brothers were there, they would want to talk to him. But a small peek around the corner proved the room to be empty so he took the stairs down to the kitchen one at a time.

"Gordon!"

Gordon froze on the last step, Alan's chipper voice was like a squeal on a comms channel.

"Alan. Leave your brother alone."

Even worse, their father was there too. Gordon sighed, it would have been near impossible to avoid them altogether so he decided to just deal with it. If they got to be too much he'd just go back to his room. He made his way over to the table and sat down, all of his brothers were there, empty plates in front of them.

"Morning," Gordon mumbled, trying to seem at least passible as far as proper politeness was concerned.

"Evening is more like it." John wasn't looking at Gordon, had his nose still stuck in a book, some of the glitter still in his hair.

"Evening? I felt like I slept longer than that."

"You slept almost twenty-six hours." It was his father, not looking at him, just staring off into the distance.

Gordon snapped his head up and looked around at his family. Virgil had vanished, but the rest of them were there. They were all looking at him, that same disappointed frown on all of their faces.

"Sorry. Must have been tired."

"I'd say so. Virgil said you just weren't sleeping, but you must not have slept the past few days or something."

"Alan. Tone it down." Their father again, his gaze still not leaving the horizon.

"What, I was just—"

"No, it's fine. I've just been worried is all." Gordon tried to wave it off, but his hand just flopped on the table a little.

"You have been hitting the coffee a little hard. What did you drink yesterday, seven cups?" Scott was across from him, his head tilted trying to look Gordon in the eyes.

"I used to drink eight when I was on the undersea base." Gordon tried to smile, but from the looks of his family it wasn't very convincing.

"Are you hungry? We can get you whatever you want." Scott was half out of his chair already.

Gordon had come down to eat, but if his family thought they needed to wait on him, then he wasn't going to bother. "No, I'm fine."

"Here. Take this." Virgil had appeared from nowhere with a glass of juice and a small paper cup with a single pill in it.

"What is it?"

"Just take it." Virgil was staring down at him and Gordon wasn't in any mood to argue so he threw the pill into the back of his throat and drank some of the orange juice.

"There. Happy?"

"Not quite. You need to eat." Virgil was already in the kitchen, the refrigerator open, pulling things out.

"I can fix my own food." Gordon went to stand, but tripped on the legs of his own chair and fell hard onto the floor.

"Gordon!" Scott and Alan were by his side pulling at his arms and trying to help him get up.

"Leave me alone!" Gordon threw his arm out, hitting one of them—though he wasn't sure just which one, and they backed away.

"Boys, let him be."

"But, Dad." This time it was Scott, Gordon could see his shoes still in his line of sight.

"Sit."

"Yes, sir. Come on, Alan." Scott's shoes disappeared and Gordon could hear their chairs scrape against the floor.

Slowly Gordon pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and then up onto his feet, sitting down again in his chair, red faced.

Virgil appeared a moment later with a plate of eggs and sausage. "Eat. All of it. Then you can go hide in your room or whatever you want to do."

Gordon looked down at the plate, frowning. "What about the training? I missed today's didn't I?"

"I don't think Thunderbird 1 is the right fit for you." His father finally glanced over at him, the disappointment clear.

"But, you said you—"

"I did, but you are not a bird, you are a fish. The sea is where you belong. If for some reason Scott can't pilot her, Alan or Virgil will."

"But Dad—"

"My decision has been made. You will take the rest of the week off and rest up."

"But—" Gordon's hands were in fists on the table. He stood, causing his chair to lose its balance and fall backwards behind him. He turned and his feet got caught once again causing him to fall to the floor. He cursed loudly and scrambled up, hurried back up the stairs and to his room.

Gordon was crying before he had even made it back. Struggled to find the knob on his door through the tears and wasn't even sure he had gotten it closed before he flopped onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He was sure someone would follow him, and thought he should make sure his door was shut and locked, but he didn't.

"Gordon." It wasn't who he expected it to be. He figured it would be Virgil really, if any of them came, it should have been Virgil but it wasn't. "Gordon, you didn't eat your food."

"I'm not hungry." His head was still buried in his pillow, his voice muffled as another sob escaped.

"You haven't eaten in over twenty-four hours." She set the tray of food on his side table and then sat down on the bed. Her hand in his hair. "Come on, Gordon. At least look at your grandma will you?"

Gordon took a deep breath, and wiped his face on his pillow before turning to look up at her. He was trying to look angry, maybe then they would get the idea that he wanted to be left alone, but he doubted that was the look he gave her. He really wasn't sure what his face was doing at the moment, but her frown just deepened.

"What is going on with you, huh?"

"Nothing."

"This isn't nothing. Virgil said you think you failed in One. Is that true?"

"I did fail. I'm not fit to be here."

"That is far from the truth."

"I saw the way they looked at me earlier—yesterday. Everyone is disappointed in me!"

"They are not." She was still petting his head, but readjusted herself and looked out of one of the windows. "Let me tell you what I saw and heard yesterday."

"Grandma." Gordon groaned.

"No, you listen young man, and you listen well."

Gordon sighed, when Grandma was on a mission, there was little any of them could do to stop her.

"I was in the lounge when you took off in One. Your father was very worried about you. You aren't the pilot that your brothers are."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Gordon." It was the warning tone, and Gordon sighed. "He was pacing the room the entire time, the first lap didn't calm him down and when One went out of control… he was blaming himself."

"I'm the one that made the mistake, not him."

"Gordon, he knew flying wasn't your thing and when you came back and hid in the locker room—all he did yesterday was blame himself. He blamed himself for pushing you too hard, for putting you in a situation you weren't ready for."

"I wasn't ready because I'm weak."

"You, Gordon Tracy, are not weak. You are the strongest among your brothers. I know you don't feel that way yourself, but you are."

Gordon just rolled his eyes in reply.

"Gordon." His grandmother just sighed and patted his shoulder. "Maybe it's just too soon for this talk. Come on. Eat. I expect this to all be gone when I come back."

"And if it's not?"

"Then I will force feed it to you, and don't you think for a moment that I won't." She patted him again before standing and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Gordon sighed and sat up looking over at the plate Virgil had fixed for him. He knew his grandma wasn't lying so he reached over, picked it up, and ate.

The next two days were better, though Gordon couldn't quite explain why. He still slept most of the time and stayed in his room. Either his grandma or Virgil would bring him food. He didn't seem to dream though. Not about his accident or anything else. It was just nothing, blissful nothingness. He tried not to look outside, didn't want to see his brothers going around in One—that would have been too painful to watch.

The third day day he started to get antsy, impatient, but for what he didn't know. He made his way down to the lounge. His father, grandmother, Kayo, her father, and Brains were all there. They were listening in to the communications between One and Two. They had been sent out on a training mission. Gordon still didn't want to interact with his family so he made his way up to the balcony and sat in one of the chairs up there, still listening, but trying not to seem too interested. He curled up in the chair, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was starting to become worried about his brothers, though he wasn't quite sure what they were doing, or if they were in any danger. He wasn't with them though, and that was enough to cause him to worry a little.

It was several hours later that the two ships returned to the island. The blast screens rose up to protect the two levels of the house as One sank down into the earth below the pool. Gordon still wasn't sure he wanted to talk to his brothers but didn't want to go back into his room again. He felt worse when he was in his room—as if it were a prison that contained all his worst thoughts. He wanted to be out doing something. It took him several minutes to realize what it was that he was wanting to do. It had been several days since he had swum, so he went back to his room and hurriedly put on his swimming stuff, trying to make it down to the pool before his brothers were finished cleaning up and back in the house again.

He swam for several hours. It had felt good and he wasn't sure why he hadn't been doing it the past few days. The sun had set before he had pulled himself out of the water. His family was in the kitchen, getting ready to eat when he dried himself off and sat down in his normal chair. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Gordon tried his best to ignore them as he served himself a bit, quickly ate it, and then made his way back to his room for the night.

The fourth day he was feeling even better. He was up early and went for a swim and even lifted some weights. He sat in the lounge with his father as his brothers went on their training run. He listened in and even offered suggestions to his father who passed his suggestions on.

Gordon didn't feel normal, there was still some doubt in his mind, but there was something else as well. Something he hadn't felt for awhile now. It was just a flicker, like the light of the moon on the rolling waves. It wasn't hope, wasn't confidence either, or maybe it was a little of both. Gordon wasn't sure, but it was surely an improvement either way.

The sun had set, they had eaten dinner together, and the others had called it a night. Their father was still in the lounge with Brains looking over the data collected during the training session.

"Dad, can I have a word?"

His father looked up from the tablet he was reading from and blinked at Gordon. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

Gordon took in a deep breath, he could feel his core shake a little, the anxiety wanting him to stop, to run away, but he was determined to do this. "I want to fly One again."

His father's eyes widened a bit, he blinked, and he took a deep breath himself. "No."

Gordon's stomach dropped. He had played this conversation in his head a million times, but he had never expected his father to deny him flat out. "But, I can do better. I know I can!"

"I'm sure you could too. But the answer is still no."

The shaking in his core was radiating outwards, he could feel it in his shoulders, in his arms. He hugged himself to keep his father from seeing. "It was one mistake, I goofed, I lost control. I'm sorry. I know what I did wrong. I can do it right this time."

"I'm sure you could."

"Then why?" Gordon had raised his voice and it cracked a little.

"Brains, would you mind leaving us for a moment?"

"O-of course, s-sir." Brains blinked owlishly as he took the long path around Gordon and out of the room.

"Gordon. I told you before, One is not right for you."

"I just need practice."

"Yes, you do, but not right now. Eventually we'll get you in her again and give you time to practice handling her. Just not right now."

"Why not?"

"We don't have time."

"Just give me—"

"Gordon, I said no." His father leaned back in his chair and looked him up and down. "Today was the last scheduled testing day for One. It's time to move on."

"But the next bird scheduled for testing was—"

"Yours." He was still watching Gordon, looking him up and down. "I was thinking of putting it off. Letting you rest a bit more."

"I don't need anymore rest. I can do it. Please, let me do it!" Gordon's hands were shaking now, he was pleading with his father, he wanted the chance to show him that he could do it, that he wasn't as worthless as he felt.

His father leaned forward and touched something on his desk. "Virgil. I know you're tired, but could you come down to the lounge for a moment?"

"Yes, Father."

Gordon was struggling with himself. He wanted to run, to go hide in his room again. He didn't want to have to stand there while his father dressed him down, with Virgil as witness apparently.

It took Virgil several minutes to make his way down, and Gordon saw his eyes widen and his back straighten when he saw him. "Dad, what did you need?"

"Has Gordon been taking his medicine?"

"Yes, sir. Everyday."

"And the valium?"

"Only the once."

"Nightmares?"

"Not that I'm aware." Virgil turned and raised an eyebrow at Gordon.

Gordon shook his head. He wasn't lying, he hadn't had any. "No. I promise, no. None."

"As his PCP what are your thoughts on him taking Four out tomorrow?"

Virgil turned to face Gordon and frowned.

Gordon in turn tried to stand as straight as he could and clenched his fists to hide the shaking.

"I think it would be worth the try. As long as he promises to keep taking the medicine."

"Well, if he should freeze-up there won't be the risk of crashing at least. You and Brains will have remote access if we need to bring him back up again."

"I think the important question is does Gordon want to do it?"

"Yes! I do. Please, I need to prove that I am capable and worthy of being in this organization."

"Do you not think you're worthy?" His father had sat up at that, a frown on his face.

"Don't you?"

"Gordon, this had never been about your… worthiness. There is nothing short of breaking your back again that would make you unworthy. Even then I think Brains would be able to rig something up. He did have plans before, ideas in case—well, anyways. Gordon. I took you off duty because I was worried about your health, not your abilities. I know you can do it, I have every confidence in you. You're just having issues seeing that in yourself."

"That's why the doctor sent the extra medicine." Virgil walked over and laid a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "She knows about the organization and the stress it was going to put on you."

"Doctor Hamilton wouldn't have released you into our care—knowing what we were going to do, if she didn't think you had it in you to do it."

Gordon just blinked at his father and brother. He didn't know what to do, what to say. None of this had been anything he expected. He took a step back, faltered a bit, but Virgil was there and had a hand on his back to catch him.

"Do you still want to try out Four tomorrow? It will just be you and Virgil. The other's will get the day off."

"What about your schedule?"

"Pushing the start date back a couple days won't hurt."

"But what if there is a rescue? What if it's something only we can do?"

"Don't think about all the what ifs, Gordon. Worry about what you can do now."

"Right. I'll do it. Of course I'll do it. I want to get her in the water, see what she can do."

"I'm glad to hear it. Virgil let your brothers know of the change in plans. Gordon, best get to bed. You'll have a busy day tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" Gordon straightened up. He was still shaking a little, still had doubts in his head, but if his father still had faith in him, then maybe all hope wasn't lost.


	6. Drowning

Chapter 6: Drowning

Gordon took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth. His eyes were closed his hands light on the controls.

"The deployment is in your hands. I won't do it until you are ready."

Gordon opened his eyes and looked out the front windows of his sub to the green wall of the module before him. The module was lit up to its full capacity yet the wall in front of Gordon wasn't green, it was gray.

That was a disappointment.

He had thought he had gotten over his fear of small places. The walls weren't closing in on him, and he didn't feel like he was suffocating. However, he was still shaking and that damn wall was still there. He took another deep breath but could still feel his heart beating against his chest.

"Gordon."

"Yeah, Dad?" Gordon sighed.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I want to try and do it properly."

"You're heart rate is already quite high."

"I'm sure it is." Gordon rolled his eyes and was glad his father was sticking to audio. "I'm…" Gordon swallowed. He didn't want to say it, but if he didn't his father may just tell Virgil to turn around right there. "I'm just a little nervous." Okay, wasn't the complete truth, but he just couldn't quite tell his dad that he was scared.

"Fast heart rate, high body temperature, and it looks like you're sweating—bit more than just nervous if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, Virgil." He was glad Virgil was sticking to audio as well.

"He's doing his job. Listen to him, Gordon."

"Yes, sir."

"If you want to do this, take some deep breaths and calm down."

"I'm trying." Gordon ground his teeth in reply. He closed his eyes again, and took a few more deep breaths. Maybe it was stress—he was a bit stressed at the moment.

Gordon opened his eyes and completed his checklist. "Systems check complete, docking clamp released. Thunderbird 4 is go for module deployment." Gordon took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face. He was going to be optimistic about this gray wall or not.

"How about her pilot?"

"Just release me already." If he didn't get into that water soon, he was sure he would lose his nerve. He shook his head, shooing the thought away. There was a loud clunk as the latches disengaged and Gordon held his breath.

His stomach was in his throat, his eyes wide as the gray walls tumbled around him, red lights were going off all over the place and the scream from the girl was almost as loud as the sirens that were going off.

"Gordon! Thunderbird 4!"

"Gordon, Answer me!"

"Damn, I'm going down."

"Wait." Gordon's voice was soft, he had to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine, son."

"No, really, I am. I just—I guess I wasn't quite ready." Gordon swallowed again and took a deep breath before opening his eyes. He hated admitting to that, but he was sure that was not going to be as easy to fix as his claustrophobia had been. "I'm opening the module, flap is going down."

"Gordon, don't push yourself too hard. You can come back, settle down and you guys can go back out in a couple of hours to try again." His father's voice was soft, not the order giving sternness he was used to over the comms.

"That's a waste of fuel." Gordon shook his head and looked out over the calm blue waters before him. The module was bobbing up and down on the gentle waves and it was… calming. "I'm fine, really. It's just something else I need to get used to." A list that seemed to keep growing and growing.

"I'll see if Brains can't come up with an easier way of releasing the module."

"He already has enough on his plate." Gordon was still taking in slow steady breaths and trying to calm the shaking in his hands. "He will need to redesign the air tank though, it's pushing into my back a bit too much, plus the landing didn't help it any."

"You're not going to have issues while you're down there, are you?" Virgil's hologram popped up and scrutinized Gordon for a moment.

"No." Gordon sighed. Ever since his little breakdown earlier that week Virgil has done nothing but hover over him and baby him. A bit unusual for Virgil, but then Gordon had been lying to him and he knew it. "It's not painful, just uncomfortable." Gordon stretched his back a little, making a mental note to take some pain meds when he got back to land.

"Did Brains mention that he wanted to talk to you about that design you showed me?"

"Yeah, why did you show that to him? It was just a doodle on a napkin from like… a year ago." Gordon had to stop and think just when that had been. He had just returned from his research trip and his father had met him for dinner one night—a year, it felt more like a lifetime. He had been talking about the standard equipment in WASP and how unimpressed he was with their so called technological advances. "Plus the fact that I'm not even an engineer. I don't know if half of what I said can even be done."

"That's why we have Brains. When you get back, if you're not too tired, sit down and talk to him about it. You two may just come up with something remarkable."

"F.A.B. Dad." Gordon couldn't help but smile, his father had always been optimistic. "Alright, raising deployment ramp, Thunderbird 4 is ready to dive."

"Is he ready, Virgil?"

"Shouldn't you be asking me that?"

"He has calmed down a little, his stats are closer to normal."

"Yep, ignore the person you're talking about. That's nice."

"Gordon. We just want to make sure—"

"That I'm okay. I know."

"Then make sure you take care. We'll be with you the whole way."

"I'll be fine—I hope."

Gordon released his bird and it slid down the ramp and splashed into the water. He held his breath as the water splashed around him, afraid the visions of his accident would once again appear before him. However, they didn't and he had to remind himself that he had fixed that problem already—it had been a big issue when he had first dove into the pool again.

Gordon smiled with satisfaction as he reached forward and grabbed the controls. "Ballast control active. Leveling off and heading for a depth of three-thousand feet."

"Everything is looking good from here." His father's voice was steady and Gordon could hear him hum a little in the silence. "Do a few simple aerobatics, see how she handles."

"Don't you mean aquabatics?" Gordon grinned as he prepped for manual control.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

The low chuckle of his father was reassuring as he tightened his grip on the controls to take the little sub deeper into ocean's depths. This was were Gordon belonged, deep in the sea surrounded by marine life, water, and the fading light of the sun. The outside world was a distant memory, his accident far away as if the ocean had washed it from him. He pulled on the controls to make the sub do a little loop.

"Gordon, your heart rate just spiked, and your blood pressure is increasing. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Gordon had to swallow some bile that had rose again into his throat. The outside world was determined not to be brushed away so easily.

"Yeah, but this is high even for you. You aren't… seeing things you shouldn't are you?"

In fact, he had. The loop he had taken had turned from the bluish green of the ocean to the gray of the hydrofoil. His stomach had clenched and he had to squeeze his eyes closed to prevent himself from throwing up.

He hated it. It should be fun, it was something he wanted to do. But that thrill was no longer there, it was fear now, and he despised it. He forced the sub into another loop, but again the hydrofoil was there.

"Gordon, whatever you're doing you need to stop." Virgil's torso popped up before Gordon.

He had to swallow more bile quickly, but he couldn't hide the wince as it stung on its way back down. "Virgil, I'm almost nine-thousand feet below see level in a little sub. It's amazing and frightening all at the same time, but I am fine."

"Your blood pressure gets any higher and you're coming back up."

"Virgil you're overreacting." Gordon tried his best to look annoyed and rolled his eyes at his brother. He wasn't ready to return to the real world. This was his world—he just needed to figure out how to keep it from being intruded upon by is reality.

"It's my job to overreact." Virgil's voice was still level, he wasn't angry or annoyed—well, he might have been, but he was damn good about not showing it. "If you have a cardiac event down there, there won't be anything I can do to help you. By the time I get Four to the surface you could be dead."

"My heart is about the only thing that wasn't injured in the accident. I'll be fine."

Virgil's torso was still floating before him, but he wasn't saying anything, there was no comeback, just silence and a shadow across his face.

"What?"

"Your heart. It stopped three times while you were on the table. Three times they had to drag your ass back."

Well, damn. No one had told him that. He felt tired all of a sudden, worn down by the thoughts of his accident and his recovery. The energy that had brought him down there, that had wanted to take Four out and test her was gone. He was ready to go home and crawl back into bed again.

"Damn it!" Gordon slammed his hands on the controls and then grabbed them and forced the little sub into a series of loops that ended in a fast corkscrew, sending him speeding along the sea bed. The walls were tumbling around him again and he could feel his heart beating against his chest, his stomach clenching, and the bile burned its way back up his throat again. He didn't care. He was tired of it. Tired of feeling so crappy all the time, tired of feeling so worthless. He was just tired of everything.

"Gordon!" Virgil was still there, a frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?"

Gordon didn't reply to his brother's question. He just reached up and turned the comms off. He slowed down and took a deep breath, taking in the silence that surrounded him. He wasn't sure quite why he had done that. Maybe he had hoped it would allow him to leave everything behind, if he went fast enough, it would just stay back there and never bother him again. It was wishful thinking he knew—if Thunderbird 1 hadn't done that, his little sub wouldn't either.

For a moment, he acknowledged a small, miniscule part of his mind that wished that he had had a heart attack. That it had done him in just now, so that he could stop thinking about all of this, so that he no longer had to worry about it or deal with it. He immediately stomped on that thought, squished it up, and threw it out of the airlock for fish food. That was not the sort of person he was. He did not give up, and he would not give up now, no matter what.

He took hold of the controls again and continued down a trench he had come across, the lights of his sub popping on to help him on his way.

"Gordon, I can turn the comms back on, you know." Virgil was floating before him again, the frown still on his face.

"Give me some room, would you?" Gordon just wanted to be left alone for a moment. Allowed to be a kid again, standing in the middle of the aquarium with the tanks surrounding him on all sides.

"Not when you're trying to kill yourself."

"If you don't shut-up, I'm going to block you." He didn't want that thought to pop up again, he was past it, needed to move on—though he knew it would eventually, and he would just throw it into the food processor to get rid of it.

"You don't even know how."

"I'll figure it out." Virgil was really starting to grate his nerves. He knew he was depressed, hated it, hated the word, and hated thinking about it. Virgil was very good about pointing this out to him, and telling him he was going to be okay, that everything was going to be fine. Virgil didn't know what went on in his head or just how far fine was from where he was now.

"Boys, enough." Gordon had forgotten that his father was there, listening in, and wondered why he had been so quiet. "How is she handling, Gordon?"

"Great!" Gordon forced a smile on his face, his father's torso having popped up along side Virgil. "Tell Brains I stand by my earlier comment. He is the greatest sorcerer ever!"

Gordon watched his father chuckle a little and shake his head. "I promise you, no magic."

"Nope, don't believe it. This is nothing but a lot of hocus-pocus."

"Have you hit the sea floor yet?"

"Oh yea, saw that a while ago. Found a crevice and thought I'd take a gander." He was slowly descending and watching what he could in the lights of his sub. There were plants, and animals he had only seen in videos and pictures. He couldn't believe his luck. Normally it would take a large submarine to survive these depths, and he was here alone—well, mostly alone, to enjoy it all.

Take the loopy loops out of the equation and he had done really well on this trip. He belonged in the depths of the ocean. He felt better, calmer than he had in months. He was far from his brothers and father—physically at least. There were no questions about his physical abilities and could turn on a part of him that had gotten ignored for the past year. He knew the ocean. That was something he had no doubts about. He knew the currents, the marine life. He knew how they worked, and he had learned to respect them even more since his accident.

"How deep are you?" His father's voice was low, uncertain, and that should have been Gordon's first warning that something wasn't quite right. He was enjoying himself though, and was letting himself get lost just a little in what was going on around him.

He glanced over at the gauge. "Um, going on twelve-thousand feet." Then his gaze was back to something he had seen a moment ago—blue and glowing.

"Gordon, you need to start coming up again. You're beyond the functional limit of Four. I don't now how much pressure she can take."

"Brains designed her well. She'll handle." It was an algae or moss or something. It wasn't an animal he didn't think—at least it wasn't behaving in a way that most marine life did when a bright yellow sub slowly approached. "Let me get a sample of this while I'm here."

"Gordon, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Gordon ignored his father and swiped both holograms away, they were distracting. He flipped the release for the sub's arms and grabbed the controls as they flipped around next to him. He had to be gentle, he didn't want to kill it after all.

He was feet away, inches, the leaf like structure was waving in the soft current that flowed through the ravine, waving at him, urging him closer. He was almost there, needed to get it at its roots, didn't want to harm it.

"Gordon!"

It was the panic in his father's voice that had brought him back to the present. He looked around, and red lights were going off all over his dashboard.

"Gordon, get your ass back up here, now!" Virgil's voice entered into the fray adding to the alarms that were sounding around him.

Gordon's own voice was missing, or maybe that was what was stuck in his throat cause something was and it was making it hard to breath. He couldn't swallow it, nor could he clear it away, it was just stuck there like a rock in his intake thruster.

He had his mouth open, taking in shallow breaths as he scanned the controls in front of him. It felt like all the water outside was now in his head. He could feel it behind his eyes, could hear the sloshing in his ears. It felt like he was about to burst from the pressure—wished he could.

"Gordon, answer us!"

His father was starting to sound like something beyond panic, but he couldn't quite register what that could be or why it was important.

Gordon couldn't see his sub any more. Couldn't see the controls. What he saw was the hydrofoil. The sleek black display that was lit up like a Christmas tree. That had been bad. One system after another was giving them warnings, yet they didn't know why, couldn't figure out why. They had to slow down, but…

It had been too late.

"I've got remote access of Four. Adjusting ballast control."

Virgil's voice jerked Gordon back to the here and now. Back to the sea floor and to his little sub. He saw the dial move and felt as the sub started to rise.

"She's heading up. Ten-thousand feet. Nine-thousand. Eight-thousand."

"Gordon, are you still with us?" His father's voice was shaky, but Gordon thought it was just his hearing, or maybe static over the comms.

Gordon swallowed. The lump finally went away and he cleared his throat. "Yeah." His voice was weak and broke a little as he spoke. "Sorry. I—I was just—it was beautiful. Blue—glowing blue. I just wanted a sample." He was trying not to think of what he had just saw, what he had just experienced. He didn't want either of them to know it was getting worse.

"You will have plenty of time for research later. However, taking her down that far on her first trip was reckless."

"Sorry." Gordon sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. This had been his second chance, people usually didn't get more than that. He opened his eyes and looked over the controls—his mind finally kicked into gear and he knew what needed to be done. "I've got control of Four, Virgil. I'll bring her up the rest of the way."

* * *

Gordon was in the cargo hold of Four. As soon as he had docked the sub back into the module, he had retreated to the back corner. It was the one corner he knew the camera of the comm couldn't see him—the last thing he wanted was Virgil forcing open the connection and glaring at him. However, that hadn't stopped him from barging into the hold himself once they had safely landed back on Tracy Island.

"Gordon. Talk to me." Virgil was squatting down in front of him, his eyebrows drawn, his mouth pulled tight into a frown.

"I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone." Gordon was still on the floor of the cargo hold, his knees pulled up to his chest, his head resting on them.

"Gordon, you have no reason to be upset."

Gordon didn't look at him, but grunted in reply.

"Alright. What happened down there?"

"I messed up. Isn't that apparent?"

"I wouldn't call it messed up, you just panicked a little."

Another grunt, and Gordon buried his face in his knees.

"Fine, why didn't you respond when we called for you?"

Gordon was trying his hardest not to think too hard about what had happened. It was not something he wanted to think about, not something he wanted to live through again.

Virgil sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't get you Gordon. You've been doing fine. There hasn't been anything that you've done that has been catastrophic. I know you're trying to deal with the depression and stuff, but surely you can see that things aren't that bad."

"Virgil, I froze when I shouldn't have. I about destroyed Four. Dad is probably furious with me." Gordon still didn't raise his head, his voice both muffled and echoed slightly in the sub.

"Dad is not—"

"Virgil, I don't want to talk. Please, leave me alone." Gordon cursed himself a little as a sob partially escaped.

"Gordon, you have no reason to be upset."

"Virgil." Gordon took a deep breath, it was all he could do to keep from running away from him, going to hide somewhere where he wouldn't be found and crying his brains out. "I just need time to think. Please."

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"I won't be happy until you're a bit more specific."

"God, Virgil, why can't you just do as I ask?" Gordon pulled his knees tighter to him as if trying to fit himself into the smallest possible space he could.

"Because I'm worried about you? Because you are having issues that you won't talk about? Because I want to help but you won't let me?" Virgil raised a single eyebrow at him. "Take your pick."

"I appreciate that, really I do, but—"

"I thought—with what happened last week, you'd be more open about what was going with you."

"Trust me, I am."

"And I don't know that I can believe you." Virgil sighed and stood, planting his hands on his hips looking down at Gordon. "Just promise that you won't stay here all night and take it easy the rest of the day."

"If it will get you to leave, I'll promise anything."

"Gordon."

"I said I would." Tears were starting to leak out again, and if Virgil didn't leave—well, Gordon knew it would not end up well.

Virgil wasn't eager to leave but after a few long moments Gordon could hear his footsteps fade away. He sighed and loosened his hold on his legs letting them stretch out a little. He took some deep breaths, tried to calm himself down so he could figure out what the hell happened when another set of footsteps intruded on his sanctuary.

"You okay?" His father sat down across from him, his face neutral at the moment, but Gordon's heart was already starting to race a little.

"How many times do I have to answer that question?" Gordon had been able to force the tears back in and wiped his eyes, but he wasn't sure just how much longer he could stop them.

"As many times as it is necessary to get an honest answer."

Gordon rolled his eyes and concentrated on the storage bin directly across from him—the one labeled rations. "Did Virgil send you in?"

"No, though he didn't stop me either. Mumbled something as we passed, but otherwise ignored me." He could hear his father taking a deep breath, and could feel his eyes boring into him. "After every mission we do a debriefing. You know that."

Gordon took a deep breath and steeled himself as he finally looked over at his father. "I took Four down too far and about crushed her and me. Virgil was forced to take remote control of her and bring us both back to safety. There. Done." He looked away again, concentrated on the word rations again.

"And why did Virgil have to take control of her?"

"Because I panicked."

"And why did you panic?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure it out!" Gordon punched the floor next to him, the sound echoed for a second in the confines around them. He knew why he had panicked. Some part of him knew he should probably tell his father why, but he was so embarrassed about it he felt he would rather lie about it than tell the truth.

"Let's talk it out together."

Gordon blinked at his father. Was he seriously going to make him sit there and tell him what happened. He wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to admit that he was seeing his memories worse than before. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse! He had to think of something else to say, something to get his father off his back so he could go and hide and properly process what had happened and try to think of a way to stop it from happening again. Only problem was his mind wasn't quite running at speed yet. It was still hopping and skipping around from one thing to the next.

"I—I just—I mean—it was blue. I was curious—I hadn't seen something like it before. I was just thinking—if I could get it—get a sample. Then—red. Everything was red—and I don't know!" He stood up and started to storm out of the sub. It was too much, he just wasn't ready to talk yet, he needed time to think of an excuse to figure out what to say.

"Gordon Cooper Tracy!" His father's voice did more than echo, it froze everything. Even a cold chill ran up Gordon's back as he froze in mid step. "Get back in here right now."

Gordon paused for a moment before turning and flopping back down on the floor.

"If you don't start telling me the truth, then I will have no choice than to ground you for good. I cannot have a member of the organization out there who is at risk of panicking and freezing up every second—"

"I don't freeze up—"

"You will not speak until I am done."

Gordon frowned and clenched his jaw.

"You are obviously still having some major issues. Maybe not with claustrophobia anymore—you seem to be handling being in here alright. Something else is going on though." He father paused and Gordon could see his eyes travel the length of him. "Is it the accident itself? The memories?"

Every muscle in Gordon's body tightened. He was not ready to talk about that. He needed some time to process it in his own mind, and even then he didn't want to talk about it. Not to Virgil and most definitely not to his father. This was his own mind, even if he did talk about it what could they do? Nothing. So why did it matter if he told anyone at all.

"No." It was barely a whisper, said on the breath of a sigh as he looked down to the diamond pattered floor they sat on.

"That is a lie if I ever heard on."

"Why should it matter? The accident was almost a year ago. I should be over it by now!"

"It is going to take much longer than a year to get over what happened to you on that ship—"

"I don't have any longer! We start operations in less than a month! I need to be better than this! I need to be able to do simple things without going crazy!"

"Gordon, there was never any timeline fro when you needed to be better. It will happen when it happens. However, if you are still having this much trouble concentrating, maybe it's best if you went back to the mainland for more counseling."

"The mainland? But if I go back now—"

"You may not be here for the start of IR. But that isn't important—"

Gordon jumped to his feet, his fists clenched and shaking, tears running down his blotched cheeks. "You—You can't do that! You can't take this away from me! I told you I would be ready, and I will be! Whatever it takes!" He turned on his heel and stormed out of the sub. He could hear his father yelling at him to stop, but he didn't. He didn't care how mad his father got at him, he just couldn't stand to see his stupid face anymore.

* * *

Gordon made it to his room without running into anyone else. He slammed his door and made sure to lock it, and push a chair up under the handle just to be sure no one could get in. Then he turned and punched the wall as hard as he could causing the pictures on it to rattle. He looked up at one of them, his own smiling face looked back. He tore the picture off the wall and threw it across the room. It didn't help so he grabbed another and another until the only thing left was his gold medal. He stared up at it, but couldn't touch it. He was leaning on his dresser, but his legs gave out at the thought of the medal hanging there shining brightly. That didn't belong to him, he no longer deserved it.

He crumpled onto the floor and cried. Why was this happening to him? Who did he anger to cause the world to hate him so much. All he wanted to do was to be able to help people. To use his skills and knowledge to help those that needed it. Why was that such a bad thing?

Gordon wasn't sure how long he lay on the floor crying, but eventually he calmed down. He still felt like crap, still didn't want to move, didn't want to see anyone. However, he knew he'd have to talk to his dad soon. Knew he couldn't wait too long. Knew he had to apologize, and give him a valid reason for his actions, in the sub and out.

He pushed himself up and to his feet, and made his way to his bed. He wanted to be part of this organization, wanted to be there for the first rescue. International Rescue was the one thing that had kept him going through his recovery. It had been the thought of his father's dream that had pushed him to heal faster than anyone had expected him too. If he couldn't be there when they started up, if he couldn't be part of the first rescue, then what was it all for?

Gordon picked up his tablet and opened up the schematics for his sub. His father had given him a second chance to prove himself on Four and he had bombed. He knew his father wasn't as horrible as his mind wanted to portray him at times. Knew that if Gordon could give him a valid reason for his actions, give him reason to give him another chance, he could still be here when it mattered.

* * *

His father wasn't alone in the lounge when Gordon faltered in the entry. Scott was there too. They were talking about something and looking at one of the tablets. Gordon took a deep breath to call for his dad, but let it out quickly and turned on his heels to go back to his room and wait till later—wait till he could muster up the courage again.

"Gordon?" It was Scott. "Did you need something?"

Gordon slowly turned back around. Scott was half sitting on the desk, watching him, his head tilted to the side a bit. Their father was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. The look on his face clearly showed that he was not happy with him and Gordon hesitated again.

"No, I just—if you're busy—no, I'm fine."

"Scott, would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?"

Scott looked between Gordon and their father, clearly confused, but nodded. "Sure. I'll be in the kitchen."

Gordon didn't move as Scott made his way to the stairway and out of sight, a sidelong look in his direction ignored.

"Come on in, Gordon. You obviously have something on your mind."

It felt like his legs were made of lead and it was all he could do to drag them across the floor, each step harder than the last. When he finally stopped he was next to his father's desk, and was suddenly hit with a memory. Not one of the ones he'd been fighting with the past year, but an older one. He was a kid, probably no more than nine or ten, and had gotten in trouble and sent to his father's office in the farmhouse in Kansas. He had felt bad then, but nothing compared to how bad he felt now.

"I know what I did wrong, in Four this morning."

"Go on."

"Her operational limit is listed at eleven thousand feet, but with the way Brains has constructed her she can withstand a much deeper depth, maybe even close to forty-thousand feet—not that there's anywhere on Earth that deep. However, as the controls are set, their default that is, they don't compensate for anything deeper than eleven thousand. So when I went down to twelve thousand, it was too much for her. Had I readjusted her controls it would have been fine. However, I didn't and she started to fail, her systems went down one by one.

"I had been taken off guard, I thought I would be okay, because I thought she could handle it. I wasn't thinking about the default settings. I was so intent of getting that moss that I wasn't paying attention to what Four was telling me. I was ignoring her. So when the alarms went off my mind had gone blank. I have no reason, or excuse for it. I was taken off guard when I shouldn't have. I will do my best for that not to happen again."

It was a lot, and he had rattled it off in one breath, taking the lost air back in only to continue on before this little bit of bravery had failed him. "I was also out of line earlier, yelling at you. I know you are only doing what is best for me and for the organization, but I have worked hard this whole year so that I could be here right now with you all, and I couldn't stand for that to be taken away. But I was out of line, I'm sorry."

Gordon took in another deep breath and let his shoulders sag a little, looking down at the floor. He didn't want to see what his father's face looked like. Disappointment probably, also still angry—it sometimes took him a little bit to get over some of Gordon's worst mistakes. That time in Kansas his father had been mad at him for almost a week—though he couldn't even remember what he had done.

There was a sigh and the sound of the chair rolling across the floor. Gordon closed his eyes and held his breath. His father had never been one for physical punishment so he didn't think he'd get hit or anything, but there was a certain tone his father used when he was disappointed that always felt worse than any spanking Gordon could imagine.

However, instead of any of that he found himself pulled into a tight hug. The scent of his father right there, the same as it always was. That old cologne he always wore because their mother liked it and the scent of Scotch. It didn't matter if he hadn't had a drink in a week, he still smelled like it. Gordon took a small breath in, taking in that scent and his father's hold on him tightened.

"You know I love you, right?"

Gordon nodded a little. It was what father's were supposed to say, right?

"I'm scared for you as well."

Gordon frowned. What was his father saying? What was he talking about?

"I'm scared that you are trying to do too much on your own. Trying to carry the weight of everything on your own shoulders. I'm scared that that weight will be too much one day, and you won't be able to bare it anymore. I'm scared that I'm going to lose you, again." He took a deep breath, but didn't loosen his hold any. "When we heard about the accident, it was losing your mother all over again. I wasn't sure I could handle it. I'm still not sure I could, and I'm afraid that one day you'll give up and I will have to."

Gordon could feel his father's breath in his hair as he sighed.

"I've been told that you have my personality. The optimism, the overwhelming confidence—a nice way of saying we both have big egos." There was a huff of air as his father chuckled a little. "But to me, it is your smile I always see. It's your mother's. The way your mouth turns up, the sparkle in your eyes, everything about it is your mother's. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I haven't seen that smile in a long time and it scares me. I'm scared that I'm never going to see it again, and that maybe you dieing isn't the worst thing that could happen."

Gordon buried his face in his father's shirt, tears wanting to leak from his eyes, but he didn't want to cry in front of his father. He could feel his dad's chest hitch as he took in a gasp of air and sniffed.

"Jeez, I'm not even sure what I mean anymore."

The hold on Gordon was still tight, almost holding him up, and Gordon was glad of that. He wasn't sure he could stand much on his own at the moment. The tears were still threatening to spill and with his father's own sniffle, Gordon was finding it even more difficult to hold them in.

"I love you, Gordon, and I don't want to see you hurt yourself more than you already are. You've pissed off death and he keeps trying to pull you down with him. We are all here to help protect you from whatever is going on in your mind, but we can't help if you don't let us in."

Gordon was pulled away from the warmth of his father and he automatically looked up at him. Tears were slowly rolling down his father's cheeks and Gordon could feel the tears finally roll down his own face.

"I'm afraid if I just let you try and deal with this on your own, that one day you're going to just give up. Be sick of it all and stop trying. I'm afraid that that will happen when you are on a rescue, deep in the sea with no one there to stop you." He took in another deep breath and Gordon had to bite his lip to keep himself together. "Stop trying to be the lonely hero. This organization cannot work unless we all help and support each other. The same goes for its members as well. We have to work together to help each other and to protect each other."

"I'm—" Gordon looked down, afraid to say what he knew he needed to say, what he had been wanting to tell someone for a long time, but feared their reaction. "I'm scared. I'm scared of failing, of looking stupid, of saying something and they'll just laugh at me. I'm scared of not being good enough for what this organization needs."

His father pulled him back into the hug, his chest hitched again as he he fought the tears. "I can't promise you that they won't, but then they don't know everything that is going on."

"Do I have to tell them?"

"I can't make you. But I think you should. I also think you should talk to your doctor again."

"Dad!" Gordon pushed himself away and looked up at him, fear clear in his eyes.

"Remotely. We can call him from here and set up a meeting."

"Oh."

"You're brother's are worried about you, Gordon. The more they understand what is going on the more we all can help you."

Gordon nodded a little and looked down.

"What did you see? When you lost control of Four?"

Gordon sighed. It felt like a lot of the worry and anxiety of the past year was finally flowing out of him. "The accident. That moment when the warnings started to go off, when we were trying to figure out what was going on, but couldn't. I couldn't do anything to stop it." His breath got caught in his throat and a sob escaped.

His father pulled him back into a tight hug again. "We'll need to up your training. The schedule is going to need a re-haul if you are going to be ready for the first rescue. We'll need to challenge you on various scenarios, safely this time. We will work though this together, I promise. You are not alone."

Gordon didn't stop this time. He let the tears fall, he let the sob escape, and he reached up and hugged his father back, clinging to him like a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

They stood linked together for a long time before Gordon finally gained back some control and pulled away, wiping his face on his arm.

"I want you to go upstairs and take some time for yourself. I'll contact the doctor and let you know when a time has been scheduled for a meeting. I also would like you to think about talking to your brothers. Even if you don't tell them everything, they do deserve some explanation for your behavior." His father was still holding him at arms length, his own tears only recently stopped. "As for tomorrow, I think it best you take a day off—"

"But Dad!" Gordon's voice was still thick from crying.

"Just hear me out. If you don't like it we'll see what we can compromise on."

Gordon nodded and took a deep breath.

"I want you to do some diving around the island. There are all kinds of caves and reefs. We need to know about the ecosystem of the area so we don't damage it while we do what we are doing here. I need someone of your caliber to do that for me."

"What about Four?"

"Brains and Virgil are working on her now. Once they get her fixed, the others will do some basic training with her, plus some diving practice as well."

"I'm going to be by myself?"

"Would that be a problem if you were?"

"Well, it's just that's like the first rule of diving, don't go by yourself."

His father let out a good solid laugh. He wasn't laughing at him, Gordon was sure about that. He knew his diving rules, he wasn't wrong.

"No, I wasn't expecting you to go by yourself." He smiled down at Gordon. "John will go with you."

"John? But he doesn't know anything about diving."

"He may not have as many hours racked up as you, but he's done his fair share. I take it you're okay with this plan?"

Gordon thought about it for a moment. He wanted to get back into Four, but at the same time, it would be nice to just go diving again. Maybe he would be able to figure some things out while he was down there. Plus it wasn't like he was going to have any issues with John talking his ear off. "Yea, I think I can do that. But then, the day after?"

"You'll be back in Four. We may not do the mock rescues this week. Depends on how things go. But the two days after tomorrow will be all about you and your bird."

"Does Virgil have to be there?"

"He is your ride." His father sighed and frowned at him. "You two used to always get along. What is going on between you?"

Gordon sighed and slumped some more if it was possible—he felt as if he was just moments from flopping down on the floor in exhaustion as it was. "I know he means well, but he's always like everything is okay, I'm fine, everything is fine. But I don't feel that way and him saying it isn't helping any. Almost makes it worse."

"I'll have a talk with him."

"Do you have to?"

"Do you want him to keep telling you everything is fine?"

"No."

"Then yes, I do."

"Alright." Gordon sighed and rubbed at his eyes again.

"Go on up to your room. Take a nap or whatever you feel you need to do."

Gordon nodded and turned, making his way out of the lounge feeling not necessarily better, but maybe not quite as bad.


	7. Catching Up

Chapter 7: Catching Up

Gordon was up early the next morning, a pile of diving gear at his feet as the dark sky of night faded to a sleepy gray. He was going through it, making sure it was all functioning properly. John wasn't as early of a riser as Gordon—really none of the them were, but John had woke when Gordon had knocked on his door and he was now standing in the kitchen with his long speedos on and some flip-flops, sipping on some coffee and packing them a light lunch—they would be gone most of the day.

"Here."

Gordon hadn't noticed John walk up to him and jumped a little as the plastic wrapped sandwich flopped down on the cement next to him.

"What's this?" Gordon picked up the package and looked it over.

"Ham and cheese. Figured it would be the easiest to pack. Not sure where we'll be when it comes time to eat." He had half a bagel in one hand and put it in his mouth as he grabbed something else and tossed it to Gordon. "An apple as well."

Gordon shrugged as he stored the food in the waterproof bag he would carry with him. He was already in his wetsuit, with a pair of normal shoes on for their hike down to the beach. "We'll be ready to go once you suit up."  
"Right." John dusted the crumbs from his hands as he reached down and grabbed his wetsuit. "So what exactly are we doing today? Dad said something about cataloging sea life."

"Something like that." Gordon forced on a smile and glanced over to his older brother, watching him struggle a little with the wetsuit "We need to take in the state of the reefs and caves around the island. Try and map them out as much as possible. We'll only catalog things that look to be in danger of what we're doing. We'll have to address those issues first."

"Can't this all be done with scans from Five?" John grunted a little as he pulled the zipper up, stretching a bit to settle the rubber on his skin.

"Well, for one, she's not fully functional yet." Gordon handed over John's gear and then picked up his own. "Still have about a half a week before we go up." Gordon couldn't help but glance over at John at that.

John's gaze was to the sky above them and not to the path before them. "Not soon enough."

There was a bit of silence as Gordon gave John a moment to think about his ship before he brought the conversation back down to Earth. "Also, I don't completly trust those scans. They don't always penetrate all the rock, and I don't care how powerful she may be, she's not going to be able to detect some of the smallest organisms out there."

"First, like you said, she's not fully functional yet. We'll see how her scans do once I'm up there." They had reached the beach in no time and were starting to gear up. "Second, I haven't decided if you'll be going with us or not, yet."

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon turned on him, his heart tightening. "Dad said we were all going!"

"Dad put me in charge of space issues." John continued to gear up as he spoke, his voice level as he explained his reasoning. "You've only been cleared for active service for a few weeks now, about crashed One, and was grounded for the past week. I don't know the details, but it's enough to wonder if you're fit or not."

"You want proof that I'm fit enough for space?" Gordon finished gearing up and made his way into the water. "Then let me show you just how fit I am! We've got a lot of ground to cover, and just today to do it."

Gordon was pissed at John, he didn't know anything and was ready to ban him from the rest of training! He dove into the water as soon as he could but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get the anger to stick. John wasn't one to do anything out of spite. When he made decisions they were based off of the information he had before him, and if he was telling the truth, then all he knew was the fact was Gordon had been grounded for a week after having almost crashed Thunderbird 1. And that he was still—technically—recovering from his accident. He had every right to doubt his ability.

Gordon pushed the thoughts away, he wasn't going to let them ruin the day. They spent the entire morning scanning, making notes, and taking measurements of the various reefs in the area, as well as exploring some of the lava tunnels and caves. He answered all of John's questions and even showed him an easy way to stay away from a reef when the current tried to push him towards it—John was proficient in diving wells, not in actual currents. After a few hours, even Gordon had pretty much forgotten about his anger towards his brother.

It was probably close to eleven o'clock when they surfaced in a large cavern along the western side of the island. John had already pulled himself out of the water onto a wide ledge and pulled his helmet off. "Not the best place, but how about we stop here and eat lunch?"

Gordon was still floating in the water, looking around, making sure the cave was safe to stay in. But after a few quick scans proved it to be sturdy he pulled himself up on the same ledge as John and took his own helmet off. "Wonder how our sandwiches held up." Gordon smirked over at him as he pulled open his bag.

"Mine seems to have held up pretty good." John shrugged as he took a bite from the smashed bread.

"Mine, however, did not." Gordon held up the sandwich, half unwrapped and soaked. "My whole bag is full of water." He took out the apple, which had survived and threw the rest of the bag off to the side.

"Here." John held out the other half of his sandwich.

"Nah, I'm good." Gordon crossed his arms and took a bite of the apple.

"Gordon, take it. I can hear your stomach growling from here."

Gordon opened his mouth to decline again, but his stomach took that moment to rumble. He sighed and took the sandwich.

"You doing okay?" John was watching him, and Gordon was trying his best not to stare back.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, we've spent the entire morning together and you haven't once mentioned the glitter that is still in my hair."

The cave was dark, but they had set up a lantern to lighten things up, and Gordon could see a few sparkles. "Wow, I'll have to ask Alan where he got that. It's some good stuff."

"Well, I suppose that's a little better."

"What?"

"Your smile."

"Okay." The small smirk that had graced his lips was gone now, replaced by yet another frown.

"You haven't smiled much as of late."

"What are you talking about? I smile all the time."

"Hm, let me rephrase that. I haven't seen too many real smiles from you recently. Just a lot of fake ones, or half attempted ones."

Gordon's frown deepened. He thought he had been doing good, putting on a proper facade so his brothers wouldn't worry about him.

John seemed to be reading him perfectly. "We've all been worried about you. Especially after what happened on One. Scott's been hounding Virgil, but he won't say anything—just made us promise to give you some room."

"That's because I asked him to do that." Gordon sighed and stared at the half eaten apple in his hand.

"Why? We want to help."

"I wanted to be treated as if nothing was wrong, as if everything was fine."

"But things aren't fine, are they?"

"They're not great." Gordon let his shoulders slump a little. "I thought once I was here, on the island, everything would be fine. No more worries, and no more stress. It's been far from it though."

"You've been trying to deal with it on your own?"

"As much as possible."

"Is it helping?"

"I got over my claustrophobia." Gordon tried to smile but gave up when it was obvious that John wasn't buying it.

"What about the other stuff?"  
"I don't know." Gordon buried his face in his hands. He wished he could tell him, but didn't want to bother him either. Nor did he want his sympathy.

"Dad put me in charge of the decision making when it comes to Thunderbirds 3 and 5. Who will be trained, who will go up with us, and what their jobs will be once we're up there. Space flight—and rescue, take a unique skill set and there's no guarantee that we all will be right for it."

Gordon frowned as he turned to watch John. He wasn't looking at Gordon, but at the wall across from them. Gordon followed his gaze and thought for a moment that the light reflecting off the wet wall kind of reminded him of the night sky.

"So if I want to go up with you guys, I'm going to have to tell you everything."

"Maybe not everything, but the truth and enough of it to make me confident that you won't have a heart attack while we're escaping Earth's gravity." John blinked and turned to look at Gordon. "So I'll ask again. How are you doing?"

"Honestly." Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know."

"Depression is a difficult thing to figure out."

"How would you know?"

"I've done some reading on the subject."

"Of course you have." Gordon couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I'm not claiming to understand what you're going through. I'm quite in the dark when it comes to that."

"It's getting a little easier, I think. Some days are great—like today! I was a little mad at you at first, but...nah, not anymore. I haven't had any issues, even in some of those lava tubes that I could barely fit through." Gordon couldn't help but smile. It had been scary, but the thrilling kind, the kind of scare he loved.

"Yeah, thought you were stuck in that last one for a moment. Afraid I'd have to make a call to Dad and let him know you got lost up the butt end of the island."

Gordon slowly looked over at John and snorted in laughter. "No, that was not the butt crack of the island. No way, too small."

"And you are the expert on island butts?"

"I am the guru of island butts, and legs—"

"You're talking about the hula dancers on Maui, aren't you?"

"Don't forget the guys too, man the muscles on them!" Gordon smiled at John who tried to hit him upside the head, but Gordon ducked out of the way and laughed a bit more.

"I'm glad you're having a good day."

"Me too. They seem too few and far between, sometimes."

"What are the other days like?"

"Like I'm trying to swim upstream. With a boulder attached to my ankle dragging me to the bottom. Some days, I keep swimming and won't give up. Other days, I'm too tired to try and let the boulder drag me under."

"Have you ever thought about letting the boulder drag you all the way down. To the point where you can't ever come back up?"

John was eyeing him, he could feel it, but he didn't want to look. Didn't want to lose the rhythm of his analogy and lose the guts to keep going.

Still it took him a moment to think of a reply. To think of the right words. "Even on my worst days, I don't want to see the bottom. I get close and suddenly I don't care how tired I am, I'll kick my way back toward the surface. That's not who I am, it was never who I was. I don't give up, and I don't want to. Ever."

"I'm glad to hear it." John reached over and pulled Gordon into a half hug.

They stayed like that for a moment before Gordon pulled away, wiped at his eyes, and turned to face John. "About Three and Five."

John was smiling, but it faded as he turned his full attention on him. "Go on."

"Well, more Three. I don't think I can pilot her. At least not right now. I want to go to Five though. I want to see her, experience space, and see what you and Alan are so enamored with. I want to experience zero-g, and learn how you deal with it. I want to know how her systems work and what you'll be doing." Gordon paused for a moment and looked down at his hands. He had finished the apple, it's core laid aside. "It sounds stupid, I know, but I don't want to be left behind. I want to be with you all up there. If I'm left back here on the island—I feel like that would be the worst thing that could happen. Like it would be proof that I'm not capable of being a part of the organization."

"Gordon—"

"I know it's stupid. There's no logic to it, but it's how my head is programed at the moment. I can't ignore it. I'll understand if you have your reasons, really I will. I'm just afraid that that logic won't override the emotions. I hate it, but I can't control it." Gordon had his head in his hands, leaning over the water. He was glad it was dark—dark enough he couldn't see his reflection.

John didn't reply right away, he just sat there, kicked his feet a little in the water, and watched him. "Are you going to be doing anymore training in Four this week?"

"Yeah, next two days, at least. Maybe the rest of the week depending on how that goes."

"I'm going to need to know how it goes. If you do okay, then I don't see why you couldn't come. No training, just riding along up to Five. Once we're up there, we'll see how you do."

"Really?" Gordon looked up at John, not sure he could believe him.

"It's still a maybe, but yeah. If it means that much to you, I'd like to see you come along."

"I'll tell Dad to let you know as soon as we're back." Gordon couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

"It would also help to know about your physical issues, if there are any. The g-force in Three is going to be way more than it was in One."

"I'll mention that to Dad as well." Gordon nodded, his smile still growing. There was still hope, he needed that.

"I thought Virgil was in charge of your medical issues." John frowned down at him, a hand on his shoulder.

Gordon's smile vanished in an instant. "I… don't want to talk to him right now."

"Did you have a fight?"

"Something like that," Gordon mumbled. He quickly grabbed his trash and stashed it back in the not-so-waterproof bag. "Come on, we still have the other half of the island to survey." He pulled on his helmet and left John behind him as he dove back into the water and headed out of the cave.

The sun was quickly sinking in the distance by the time they made their way back to the pool deck—disposing of their gear in a small pile by the shed it was normally stored in. The rest of the family was in the kitchen, finishing up their supper as the two approached.

"Did you save us any?" Gordon sat down in his normal spot across from Scott.

"Did my best, Alan was apparently hungry today." His father chuckled as his grandma appeared by his shoulder with two plates full of food for him and John.

"You okay, John? Look a little tired." Alan was leaning across the table.

"Well, someone had me up before dawn." John smiled as he took a bite of food.

"I woke you up at six-thirty. Not like it was the middle of the night or anything." Gordon pointed his fork at John as he spoke with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"Swallow your food before you speak." His grandma batted at his shoulder.

Gordon quickly swallowed and apologized. "Anyways, with only ten hours of sunlight right now, there was no way we would have gotten everything done if we didn't start out early."

"If you've been swimming all day, you should probably take some muscle relaxants for your back." Virgil kept his eyes averted and poked his fork at some left over peas on his plate.

Gordon just turned toward his father. "Have you had a chance to look at any of the data we've been sending up?"

Scott straightened up and frowned. "Gordon, Virgil is talking to you."

Gordon sighed and slowly turned to face Scott. "Yes, I know. I'm ignoring him."

"He's just trying—"

"Scott. Not right now."

Scott's brows drew together. "But Dad—"

"I said, not right now."

"I'm going to go down to the hanger and mess around for a bit." Virgil stood and grabbed his plate.

"What do you say when you wish to leave the table, young man?" Their grandmother seemed to be on a manners crusade.

"May I be excused?"

"Go on, but don't stay down there too long." Their father waved him away and he handed his plate off to his grandmother before disappearing into the mountain. "To answer your question Gordon, I have been looking at the data. You two covered quite a bit of ground today."

"He dragged me around the entire island." John sighed as he leaned back, his plate only half finished.

"You scanned the entire island?" His father raised his eyebrows at him and blinked.

"Not in detail. Just an initial survey. Thunderbird 5 will do a more detailed one later, and then I can go back again to hit the spots it can't see well." Gordon stuffed another fork full of food into his mouth.

"I'm telling you, you won't have to do that." John smiled down at Gordon.

Gordon still had food in his mouth, but he did his best to make a face back at John. "Jeez, Alan." Gordon quickly swallowed the mouthful before his grandma could object again. "Did you not eat anything today?"

Alan had pulled John's remaining food to him and was scarfing it down as if it would disappear if he didn't. "Not much and we were out in Four all day. Man, diving wears a guy out!"

"Tell me about it!" Gordon laughed and straightened his back a little stretching it.

"Are you sure you don't need anything for your back?"

It was all Gordon could do not to snap at Scott. "I'll take some painkillers before hitting the hay."

"I wouldn't wait too long on that. It's going to be another long day tomorrow." His father gave him a warning look.

"I'm ready for it!" Gordon smiled again and stuffed the last of the meat into his mouth.

* * *

It had taken no less than five extra strength Tylenol before Gordon was comfortable enough to fall asleep. Once he had drifted off, though, he had slept peacefully. No nightmares. In fact, no dreams at all. He woke the next day, still a little stiff, but rested. He made sure to stretch good before heading down for a little bit of breakfast.

The house was quiet, it was still fairly early, but he wasn't the only one with breakfast on the mind. The young engineer was sitting at the table, a bagel in one hand and the other messing with a little robot.

"What is that?" Gordon took a seat across from him and poked at the small white machine sitting there. It beeped and jumped at his prodding, and Gordon couldn't help but laugh.

"This is my mechanical assistant, experimental. MAX for short." the engineer brightened up at that and smiled.

"Cute guy, but a little small for an assistant, isn't he?"

"Well, I'm still working on his programming at the moment. In the future he'll be able to do more and I'll build him something a bit bigger." Brains smiled fondly at the machine and even reached over and tickled its head. "Are you available for a moment? I've been wanting to go over your designs."

"You're still interested in that doodle?"

"Yes, from what I can make out of it, it looks like a fascinating idea!" Brains reached into his coat and pulled out the neatly folded napkin. He laid it out on the table and flattened it as best as he could.

"But this is just a random idea I had one day. I don't know that even your magic can do anything for it."

"I don't know either, that's why I wanted you to explain your thought process to me. I can only get so much out of the drawing."

"Alright, if you insist." Gordon shrugged and scooted his chair in closer. "One thing I was wondering about was the vest."

"That is your buoyancy compensator."

"Yeah, but the actual compensators don't have to be all that big, you could almost string them along a belt. It would be less cumbersome, and actually within easy grasp if you needed to adjust the settings."

"True, but it also acts as a b-barrier between you and your gear."

"Right, but what if the gear weren't such a burden."

"Please, k-keep going."

"I don't think we need near as big of an air tank if we're able to find a scrubbing filter that does a better job. I wasn't sure what that would be until I was in that undersea base. The filters they used were reusable, and organic. Not only that, you wouldn't need as much of one to do a good job." Gordon pulled one of the computer modules toward them and brought up a picture of the filter he had in mind."

Brains pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked the item over. "I've never heard of that being used as a filter, but I don't see why it wouldn't work. Still, you w-would need three tanks on your back."

"Two." Gordon held up his first two fingers for emphasis. "Air and Oxygen. The big part of my idea was to put the scrubbers in the hose. It would scrub the air as it traveled from the mouth to the tanks.

"I-in the tubing?"

"Yeah, then it would scrub the CO2 out of the exhaled breath while heading back to the tanks. The sensors for the computer would be fitted just outside of the regulator and just before the air reaches the tanks. Then it would release the desired amount of air and/or oxygen into the mixture before sending it back off to be breathed again." When he finished he looked up at the engineer smiling, but his smile faltered when he noticed the frown on his face. "Well, yeah, like I said, I'm not an engineer so it's probably just silly talk. Sorry I wasted your time."

"G-Gordon, w-wait."

Gordon didn't wait. He threw the rest of the bagel he had been nibbling on in the trash as he made his way down to the hanger.

Gordon was in Thunderbird 4 again. Deep in the ocean, though not near as deep as he had gone the other day. He was only five-thousand feet below sea level, but that didn't make his nerves any less apparent—to him at least.

"Gordon, are you finished with that list of maneuvers?" It was his father on the comms, his voice smooth and calm.

"I'm working on it. I just—I'm—I don't know." Gordon slumped in his seat and leaned his head back, looking up a the ceiling.

"Talk to me, Gordon. What's going on?"

"Is Virgil—can Virgil hear?"

There was an audible sigh. "No, he's not patched into the audio. Anything he needs to say will come through me."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean for this to be a hassle… I just…"

"It's okay, Gordon. We'll deal with it eventually. Right now, I want to know what is going on in your head."

"Right." Gordon sighed. "I can't think. I mean, I know what to do. I know I know. It's just my brain feels like a ball of twine with a big knot in the middle. I get to a point and I start second guessing myself."

"Alright. Do you think it's because of the claustrophobia?"

"No. I'm loving it down here. Wouldn't mind a little aimless wandering though." Gordon shrugged as he flipped a few switches.

"Ten minutes."

"What?"

"Ten minutes. Wander. Let your mind relax and get rid of some of that stress. We've got time. The odds of the first rescue needing Four is minimal. Just don't go any deeper than you already are."

Gordon perked up. "F.A.B." He grabbed the controls and took off. He took a lap around where Two was hovering above him, and even attempted a small roll without any issues. He took every last second of the ten minutes and then continued right into the maneuvers his father had given him, finishing them up in no time.

"Done."

"Okay, continue on—"

"Done. I just needed the break I think." Gordon was grinning, and had even initiated the hologram himself and laughed a little at his father's blank look.

"That's good to hear." His father smiled a little and looked down at something. "However, you won't be able to just go for a little wander in the middle of a rescue if it gets to be too much."

"Yeah, I know." Gordon's smile wavered a little.

"We can ask your therapist if they have any suggestions, which will be in a few hours. Just got the confirmation. For now, I want you to complete this next set of maneuvers. Take as long as you need to do them, and that includes another wander if you need it. It works, so let's use it."

* * *

Gordon flopped onto his bed and buried his head in his pillow. It had been a very long day. He had been out in Four from seven to two, and then just finished a two hour therapy session with his doctor. It had been good though. He had gotten a lot done in Four—even with his occasional wanderings, but he was able to control his frustration, which was new. His doctor had only good things to say, and the occasional warning not to push himself. He had to push himself though, how would he be ready in time if he didn't. She reminded him, though, that his mental issues were just like his physical ones. They needed time to heal. They just weren't healing fast enough for Gordon's taste.

His stomach rumbled a bit and he flopped over onto his back. He didn't want to move, but they were going to grill out and there was some fish in the refrigerator with his name on it—literally, he put his name on it so no one else would eat it.

"Gordon, what is that gauge saying?" It was the strawberry blond again. Her lips were bright red and just begging for a little peck—something Gordon had been wanting to do since they had been introduced.

"It's still in the green." Gordon flashed his teeth. He had made it his mission to take her on a date when they hit land next.

"Yeah, but it's higher than normal." She looked over at him, a frown on her face. Man was she beautiful.

"Not by much, something probably just got stuck. Won't stay there for long." Gordon waved his hand at her and leaned on the console.

"Still it worries me." She scooted closer, not to be close to him, but to look herself.

"I told you, It's—"

"No." She took in a sharp breath and pushed him away.

He looked at the warning light that had popped on. "That's not right." Gordon frowned as more warning lights popped on—the green display slowly turning yellow. He elbowed his way past her and started a diagnostic of the system.

"Damn, what is causing this?" She was back in her seat, running another diagnostic for the new set of warnings that had cropped up.

"One error leads to another, but where is it starting?" Gordon was trying all the tricks he knew, but the yellow lights were quickly turning red.

"We need to slow down." She was reaching for the emergency break, it would kill the engines and they would let momentum take over, but they would be stuck in he middle of the pacific until help could arrive—and with WASP that could be a few days.

"Wait, I've got one more trick."

Gordon woke suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. He sat up and was confused at first, didn't recognize where he was—he had expected to see that gray wall again, or the hospital room. It was the blue wall he recognized first—though the pictures were still piled in the far corner. The wall was dark and inky, his gold medal hung in the middle of it, glittering in the very last of the sun's light.

Gordon buried his face in his hands. He wanted that memory to leave, to disappear and never show up again. But it wouldn't. Instead more ideas intruded on his thoughts, and he found himself falling out of the bed in search of his tablet he had left laying on the floor that morning.

"Come on, bring up the browser. Search, WASP hydrofoil accident," He was mumbling and bouncing on his knees as the search page loaded. "WASP hydrofoil crashes in Pacific: crew of thirty-five feared dead. WASP hydrofoil crash; five survivors found. 29 dead in WASP accident. Wrecked hydrofoil makes land. Investigation into tragic WASP accident deemed Top-Secret. Leaked report; WASP crash preventable. Unauthorized crew member on bridge when hydrofoil crashed."

Gordon flung the tablet across the room where it landed with a soft thump. It had to have been his fault. He had done something and it had caused the accident. He didn't care if he didn't know the details, if he hadn't tried that, if he had just let her hit the breaks, they would all still be there. He pulled his knees up to his chest as tight as he could. He didn't want it to be true, but he couldn't deny the logic his brain was giving him.

"Gordon!"

He jumped to the side, away from the hand that had appeared on his shoulder. He had been crying again, he hated how he couldn't stop it. The tears were making his vision blurry though, and he couldn't tell who was standing above him in the dark room.

"Gordon, what's wrong?" He was kneeling down next to him now.

Gordon wiped his eyes, it was Scott. He had kind of hoped it had been his father, and was glad it wasn't Virgil. Scott wasn't going to leave him as easily this time, though, so Gordon just buried his face back in his knees.

"Is something wrong? Did you re-injure yourself?" His hand was back on Gordon's shoulder, on his back, but he didn't do anything to push it away. "Gordon, talk to me."

Gordon let out a haggard sigh. "It's my fault."

"What's your fault? What happened?" Scott was down next to him, his arm around his shoulders pulling him closer.

"Everything."

"Okay, now I know you like to cause trouble, but I doubt everything is your fault." Scott took Gordon's chin in his hand and pulled it up so that Gordon was looking at him. "The only things recently would be the glitter bomb—though Alan took most of that blame, and I guess the damage to Four, but it wasn't even that bad—they had it fixed in a few hours."

"I'm talking about the accident! The hydrofoil! It's my fault!" Gordon pushed Scott away and stood, walking over to the window.

"What? How the hell did you come to that conclusion?"

He could feel Scott just behind him, but not quite touching.

"What does it matter? I know it's my fault."

"Gordon, it's not your fault."

"There were only two of us on the bridge at the time, and I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was trying something, it had to have caused it. It was my fault!" Gordon was still facing the window, his arms wrapped around himself, his head resting on the glass. The sun was gone, but the light of it still made the sky a sickening red.

"Gordon, I don't know why you're suddenly talking like this, but it was not your fault."

"Then why can't I find anything on it? There's all kind of speculation as to what had happened—a lot of it boiling down to an unauthorized crewman on the bridge. That was me Scott! I wasn't supposed to be there."

"But you weren't unauthorized. It just wasn't your shift. If we could just get the accident report—"

"Except they classified it."

"Because WASP classifies everything, even their lunch menu! You know that!"

"And I know what I remember too."

Gordon felt Scott's shadow disappear and could hear the beep of the intercom on the other side of the room.

"Dad, I think you and Virgil need to come up to Gordon's room. He's—something isn't right."

Gordon sighed and turned around to face Scott. "He's just going to give me more medicine, Virgil that is."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because that's what he does. I go crazy, he give me medicine."

"Okay." Scott was slowly making his way back over to Gordon, as if he would bolt if he moved too fast. "Why does he think you need it?"

"Because I'm a stupid idiot who can't control what's going on in my own brain."

Scott froze for a moment, before his shoulders relaxed and he sighed. "Is that how it is then?"

"You're not going to tell me that I'm fine, are you? Virgil seems to like to do that, too."

"What I think isn't what matters." Scott finished his trek across the room and pulled Gordon into a hug. "However, I don't think you're stupid. No one can control what goes on in their minds."

"Scott, what's wrong?" Their father was in the doorway, Virgil in the shadow behind him.

"It's okay. Maybe a miss-call on my part." Scott turned to face their father, pushing Gordon behind him.

Gordon was grateful for this and leaned against Scott's back as they talked.

"Though, maybe you can do something. Gordon's convinced it's his fault that the hydrofoil crashed. Think you could make some calls and see if you can't get the accident report for him?"

"Does he have any reasoning for this thought?"

"He was at the controls when it happened. He tried something to stop the system failures and—" Scott shrugged.

"I see."

Gordon could hear his father sigh and move around, probably pacing.

"Right, I'll go make a few calls, see what I can do."

Gordon peeked around Scott and saw his father leave the room, his phone already in his hand.

"What did you need from me?" Virgil was still standing by the door, one eye still on their father.

"Maybe nothing." Scott frowned and turned around to face Gordon. "Did you take your medicine today?"

"Yes." Gordon looked away. He was calming down, but still felt like a wadded up ball of garbage.

"Do you think you need something else?" Virgil took a few steps into the room, trying to look around Scott.

"No, I don't." Gordon's voice was vehement but quiet.

"Gordon, I told you—"

"I know, I'm taking it aren't I?"

"Are you?"

"Yes, I am!" Gordon's shackles were raised, but Scott laid a hand on his shoulders to keep him back.

"Virgil, back off for a moment." Scott took his hands away and disappeared.

Gordon looked up and Scott had walked over to Virgil, his arm around his shoulders corralling him back towards the door.

"Do you have any reason to believe that he may not be taking his medicine?"

"He stopped taking it after he left the hospital. Doctor said that he was even caught hiding it while in the hospital. Couldn't get him to start taking it again until last week."

Scott sighed. "Are they antidepressants?"

Gordon stiffened at the word. Deep in his rattled mind, though, he was able to realize that the fact Scott was asking meant that he honestly didn't know. Plus Virgil's hesitation was probably clue to the fact that he wasn't going to give the answer very willingly, and had at least kept his promise.

"That's not mine to say." Virgil voice was low and Gordon could feel his gaze on him.

Gordon walked over and flopped down on his bed, covering his head with his pillow. "Just tell him. He's going to find out eventually that I'm just crazy."

"Gordon—"

Gordon was peeking out from under his pillow and could see Scott raise his hand to stop Virgil from whatever he was about to say.

"Yeah, antidepressants." Virgil lowered his voice a bit, but Gordon could still hear it easily. "Was he breaking down, like crying badly and stuff? Like last week? I could give him some more valium to make him sleep. Seemed to help last time. At least he seemed to sleep peacefully, without the dreams."

"He's having nightmares too?" Scott sighed and glanced back at Gordon who just turned his face and pretended that he wasn't listening and didn't care. "I knew he was struggling, but—not this much."

"Hey, it's not your fault. He was hiding it and made me and Dad promise not to make a big deal about it."

"So, Dad does know."

"Yeah, him and Grandma."

"Good."

"I'll go get that valium."

"No." Scott had his hand on Virgil's arm and was glancing back at Gordon who was trying not to meet his eldest brother's eyes. "He's been taking the medicine. I'm sure of that. This is just something he needs to work though without any additional chemical aid."

"I'm well aware that the file is classified, however my son was on that ship and has been having nightmares about being the cause of it! I would like to prove to him that here is nothing to worry about and if there is nothing you can do about it then I will just have to go above your head and see what they can do!" Their father's voice echoed in the hall and Gordon groaned into his pillow—well, everyone was aware of his issues now.

"Where is everyone else?"

"Alan and John went hiking, going to spend the night on the far side of the island and do some stargazing. Kayo and her dad went to the mainland for some business, and Brains is down in his lab."

Gordon sighed in relief. John already knew of course, but he still didn't want Alan to know. The kid didn't need anything else to worry about. He wasn't sure how he felt about Kayo and her dad knowing, and if Brains was in his lab it would take more than their father yelling to get his attention.

"Gordon?"

Gordon blinked and raised his head—Virgil was gone, but Scott was still there.

"Could you meet me out on the roof off the lounge in say, twenty minutes."

"Why?"

"Because we need to talk, and I want to show you something."

Gordon didn't want to talk. He had done enough talking in the past two days, but his curiosity was peaked. He nodded slightly.

"Good. Eat your dinner and I'll see you then." Scott was pointing to a tray that was sitting on the side table—grilled fish.

Gordon could feel the tears again and buried his head in his pillow. Scott didn't hang around though, and Gordon could hear the door close as he left.

* * *

"Thanks for the dinner." Gordon sat down on the edge of the roof next to Scott who was just staring at the moon above them.

"I'm assuming that's what you had planned or that fish—since you put your name on it and all." "Yeah. It was good. Thanks."

"No problem."

They sat in silence for a bit before Scott sighed and stuck his hand into his shirt pocket pulling something out. "I had hoped to keep this a secret. I was embarrassed to let any of you know, but I can see now that hiding things doesn't really help."

Gordon looked down at Scott's open hand and took the bottle that lay there. It was the transparent brown of a pill bottle—half full, but the pills were familiar. "Why do you have my pills?"

"They aren't yours. Read the label."

Gordon rolled the bottle over so that the label was face up, and sure enough it wasn't his name on it. "I don't understand. Why?"

"You said it yourself. When I came back from the Air Force, I was distant, put offish."

"You were depressed?"

"Yep. Took me a bit to realize it though. More specifically it was the day when I yelled at Alan for something stupid, turned around and yelled at Grandma for the same exact reason, and then just about yelled at Dad as well. He packed me up and took me to the doctor." Scott pulled his mouth back in an attempted smile, but gave up after a moment. "Actually I think you showed up the next day and took Alan off, probably to cheer him up."

"But why? I mean, you had this to look forward to." Gordon waved his hand behind them at the house.

"I didn't know about it. Found out shortly after, and it helped, but at the time—I was lost." Scott sighed and rubbed his face a little. "I choose not to reenlist because I wasn't happy with what I was doing. I was good at it, there was no doubt there. But it wasn't what I wanted to do. They kept transferring me to active units in the middle east. I wanted to be part of support and aid. They kept telling me I would have to do what they wanted me to do for a while before I would get that choice. I was a good pilot, and they wanted me in the air over enemy lines."

"Couldn't you have talked to Dad? See if he could have pulled some strings?"

"I was already trying to prove that I was more than Jeff Tracy's son. If he got me what I wanted, then all I would ever be was Jeff Tracy's son."

"Oh, yeah, I guess. But did you ever talk to him about it though? I mean, just talk?"

"And how long did it take you to just talk to him about your issues?"

"Yeah, but they're different. I mean, he's probably been through the same thing as you. He was a pilot during the war. He didn't have a choice either."

"Your issues are a bit more complicated than mine were, which is more of a reason not to hide them. But you're right, he probably would have had some good advice. The problem was he was also proud of me. I didn't want to spoil that."

Gordon frowned, he knew that feeling all too well. "Okay, so you quit. The world was open to you now, shouldn't that have been a good thing?"

"I had planned for the Air Force to be my career. Now it wasn't and I didn't know what I wanted to do. Plus add to that the sudden lack of structure I had been living by for the past four years. I wandered around the house—around the farm, clueless. Each day, I would get more and more agitated."

"Until you snapped?"

"I hit him. Did he ever tell you that?"

Gordon blinked and shook his head.

"I regretted it right after, but I did."

Gordon looked down at the bottle still in his hands. "Are you still taking them?"

"No. Not regularly at least."

"When was the last time you needed them?"

"Last week, when you had your meltdown. For no reason at all, that little voice in my head started to ask questions. Had I not prepared you properly. Had I forgotten something? Did I miss a warning from you, a sign that you needed help?" Scott sighed and leaned back on his hands. "That was the first that voice had popped up in almost a year. There were no reason for those thoughts, but they wouldn't go away, so I took a couple—just to help."

"Aren't you afraid you're relying on them too much?"

"A little, but I can't let these thoughts rule me. Not now, and definitely not when we're out on a rescue. I'll have to make a split-second decision and I cannot be questioning myself when I do."

"It wasn't your fault." Gordon held the bottle back out to Scott who took it and put it back in his pocket. "What happened on One that is."

"It wasn't yours either."

Scott wasn't talking about One. Gordon knew he meant the hydrofoil, and even though he couldn't quite shake the guilt yet, he knew he would have probably done the same thing given another chance.

"Twenty-nine people died."

"Yes, they did."

"I was trying to pin down the problem. Thought if I flushed the system it would fix itself."

"Would that have caused the crash?"

"Shouldn't have. We did it all the time while she was at speed."

"Then you did all you could to prevent it."

"But they still died." He leaned back on his own hands and joined Scott, looking up at the sky above them.

"Yes, they did."

"Her name was Cindy."

"Cindy?"

"I've been seeing her lately. She was on the bridge with me."

"Ah."

Gordon could see Scott move, turn to look at him. "I was trying to get her to go out on a date, when we hit land next. She kept refusing me though."

"Sounds like a smart girl."

"She was perfect."

"I'm sure you'll find someone like that again."

"Living on an island with my four brothers?" Gordon snorted a little.

"You never know." Scott smiled back and squeezed his shoulder. "Come along, time for bed. You've got another long day ahead of you, and we have a visitor coming."

"A visitor? Who?"

"Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. The daughter of one of Dad's old friends from the war."

"A lady?"

"Yep. Apparently, she's in the spy business, like her father."

"A lady spy? I'm liking her already."

"Slow down. She's going to be working for us. We don't need you making a bad first impression."

"Me? A bad impression?"

"Yes, you. Be polite. Once we get to know her then you can show your annoying side to her."

"Scott, you wound me." Gordon took Scott's hand and stood.

"I will if you do anything to embarrass us in front of her. We are going to have to work with her and I'd rather have her on our good side."

"Sure, whatever you say, Scooter."

"Yeah, that right there. Don't call me that in front of her."

"Oh? You've got the hots for her, don't you?"

"I do not." Scott turned his face away, but Gordon could still see the flush on his cheeks.

"Holy crap, you do! Wait till Alan hears this!" Gordon was gone before Scott could protest. For the first time in months, his depression wasn't weighing down on him. It was still there, still in the front of his mind, but it felt much more manageable than it had before, and that was definitely a good thing.


	8. Touching the Wall

Chapter 8: Touching the Wall

Two more days of training in Four. Two very long days. He still wasn't talking to Virgil—they would exchange pleasantries, use words where they were needed, but no more. They seemed to have come up with some sort of compromise, and it was working—for now.

Otherwise, it had been a successful two days. He had been able to follow his father's instructions without difficulty. Though he hadn't completed them perfectly—he still had to go for a few wanders, and he tried the meditation his doctor had suggested with limited success. His true test would come when he had to go out on a real rescue—and as much as he didn't want it to, that thought terrified him.

It was the last day of training for that week. The last day they would spend on Four, and the last day before they would make the trek to space. His father had been satisfied with his abilities in his sub so he arranged for this last day of the week to be another mock rescue with Thunderbirds One, Two, and Four. Gordon had gone into it confident, sure that the week would end on a high note.

It was mid afternoon and Gordon sat in the loading chair for Thunderbird 3, his arms crossed, and his gaze locked on the sconces on the far wall. His other brothers were there, too. John and Scott were standing on either side of their father's desk, their arms crossed, frowning down at their younger brothers. Alan was on the next couch over, his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes flickering between Gordon and the last of them. Virgil was sitting on the far couch, his back to their father, one foot on the other knee, his arms crossed, staring at the portraits on the wall.

"Alan."

Gordon could see Alan jump at their father's voice and spin around to look up at him.

"Since your brothers aren't to keen to talk, mind telling us what happened?"

"Oh, sure." Alan looked back at him, and then over at Virgil. "Well, take-off was okay—if not a little quiet. Once we were leveled off Gordon went down to prep Four."

"They said nothing to each other?"

Alan paused for a moment before sighing. "Virgil just told him to be careful, and Gordon snapped at him."

"What did he say?"

Gordon could see Alan watching him but tried his best to just ignore him.

"To mind his own business."

"Gordon—"

Gordon jumped to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides. "He'd be perfectly happy to drug me up and let me rot."

"That is not true." The growl originated from Virgil though he hadn't moved a muscle.

"Then why were you so eager to give me more valium the other day?"

"Because you were freaking out!" Virgil was on his feet now, glaring down at Gordon, using the full inch between them to his advantage.

"I was upset, but I was not freaking out!"

"Enough!" Their father's voice echoed through the room.

Gordon huffed at Virgil and then flopped back down in the chair.

"Alan, continue."

"Well, they didn't talk again until we caught up with Scott at the rescue zone."

"Did you talk to either of them?"

Alan shook his head. "Neither seemed much in the mood."

"Go on."

Gordon wished he could disappear right now. Not only were they being forced to replay a failed rescue and the argument involved, but Gordon knew another fight was just moments away. Not only that, but Alan was being forced in the middle of it all, and that just wasn't fair for him.

"Well, Virgil asked if Gordon was ready for deployment and Gordon said—" Alan paused for a moment and frowned at his dad. "He said, 'Just F'ing release me.'Only he used the whole word."

Gordon let out a huff of air through his nose like a bull. He could see his eldest brothers eyebrows raise as they both looked to their father.

"Keep going."

"Well, John took over and guided him down to the sub that was our target and Gordon reported on the conditions. Suggested for One and Two to try and get the sub away from the ledge while he went in and rescued the victims. Everyone agreed. Virgil got into position to attach a line, but Four was in the way. Virgil tried to get Gordon to move, but he wouldn't and just told Virgil to go at a different angle.

"Virgil then attached a line to Four and pulled him away from the sub, but he had just finished cutting a hole in the hull so water rushed in. Gordon then went EVA into the sub and collected the dummies, but forgot to take extra rebreathers for them so they probably suffocated before he had gotten them back to Four."

"I would have been fine if Virgil hadn't pulled me away!" Gordon tightened his arms around his chest.

"You also failed to mention that you were cutting a hole in the hull!" Virgil was pacing now, up and down a small five step path.

"How else was I supposed to get in?"

"The airlock?" Virgil spread his arms wide as he stopped to glare at him.

"It was sitting on the airlock!" Gordon pushed himself up so he was kneeling in the chair.

"How was I supposed to know that!"

"Quiet!"

Gordon turned to glare at his father. His face was read and he was huffing as if he had just swam five hundred meters as fast as he could. It was Virgil's fault they had failed, not his. He had done everything right, he just knew it. He also knew that this was probably the end to him going in space—that thought caused the tears to gather. There was no way his father would allow him to go now. He took a deep breath and considered for a moment to just run and hide and forget this all was happening.

His father could apparently see it himself. "Gordon, you stay, or you won't be going up to Five tomorrow."

He wasn't going to cry in front of Alan, he wasn't! But he couldn't hold it in, so he stomped past him, up the steps and across the room to where it opened up onto the roof.

"Scott, John, take your brother downstairs and have some dessert." They all knew who he was talking about. Alan had curled up into himself completely freaked out by what was happening. They had fought before. They were brothers, they were always bickering about something or another. They were however, professionals in their own rights and could usually put their disputes to the side. It was unusual for their arguments to become this involved. He was a smart kid, and if he hadn't thought something was going on before, he knew it now.

"Gordon, come back over here."

Gordon glanced back and saw that the other three were gone now, so he swiped at the tears on his face and walked back over.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you two. I tell you to work it out, and you don't. You don't even try!"

"I have—" Virgil was once again on his feet, his arms spread wide.

Their father held up his hand. "No more excuses. If it were me you would both be grounded for the next week and left here on the island while we go up to Five. However, John kindly reminded me as he walked by that I had given him full control over space and he insists that you both have to go."

Gordon snapped his head up at that. He had thought for sure, he would have gotten grounded. He wanted to smile, to be happy, but he knew better. Their father wasn't going to let them off, not after what they had done.

"However, let me enforce to you the severity of your situation." Their father paused and glared at the both of them. "If you do not make amends by the end of the week—and I mean for real, not some stupid truce—you will both be grounded. Alan will fly Two, John will stay Earth bound as backup and pilot Four if needed." His father rounded on him, the full weight of his furry pressing on him. "And yes, that would mean missing the first rescue. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." They replied in unison, but still glared at each other.

"Fine, get out of here. I do not want to see you for the rest of the night." Their father flopped back down in his chair, his head in his hands.

Gordon hurried down the stairs into the kitchen, past his brothers, and out into the early evening. He took the first path north, his quick walk turned into a quick jog, and then a quick run. He ran as fast as he could, as if he was being chased by zombies. He wished that was all it was. He could deal with zombies. Running from his problems, from the pain was something else though. He knew he couldn't out run it, but he was trying anyways. The problem with living on an island was that no matter how far you ran, you eventually ended up right were you started again. Still it would take him a few hours to make the lap, enough time to think and wear himself out.

He ran as fast as he could for as long as he could. Half way around the island he started to stumble. He tripped over the rocks in the path, caught himself, and kept going. He fell, his ankle twisting, but he tucked himself in a ball and popped right back up on his feet, now with a little limp. He was almost three quarters of he way around when he finally fell, and didn't get up.

He pinwheeled his arms for a second before pulling them in and tucking his chin into his chest. He fell hard and skidded a good several feet before he stopped. He could feel where the rocks in the path had scraped his arms and legs—stripes of fire along his already sore limbs. He didn't move for a long moment, just sat there, curled up in a ball.

He was aggravated, annoyed, crushed, frustrated, tired, and was quickly losing any hope he had had. But he wasn't crying. The one time he wished he could, wished the tears would help him to wash some of the emotions away, they weren't there. He felt like was about to burst, and a small part of him wished he could. He wouldn't acknowledge that part. No, he would deal with this, he just needed to think. He always needed to think.

Every time he thought he was doing good, like he was getting ahead, something would happen that would send him reeling once again. But then he would pick himself up and keep going. That was the part of him he knew hadn't changed. He would always just keep going. He just needed to figure out how to skip the reeling part. Stop the emotions from overwhelming him so much.

He hated to admit it, but the medicine was helping. He wasn't falling as deep as he was at first, as he did after the incident with One. He was still falling though. Did he need more medicine? He hoped not. Scott didn't need more and talking to him did help. Talking seemed to help.

He needed to talk to Virgil. He knew, and yet, it felt as if that required climbing a mountain to do so. What if he had been wrong? What if this had all been his fault and he had just been blaming Virgil for nothing. Had been making his life hell for no reason. It probably was his fault, everything seemed to be his fault as of late. He sighed and some of the tension left his body, however, it had been that tension holding his back together. In that moment the muscles seized and he gasped in pain. It was the icing on the cake.

He had been treading a fine line all week when it came to his back. It had been a stressful, and physically challenging week. Each night he had to take at least five Tylenol before it would calm down enough for him to sleep. With the run he had just taken, that had thrown it over the edge. Looked like he would be staying on Earth after all.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, curled into a ball, wincing in pain when there was a rattle and then a small white bottle was set down right in front of his face. It took Gordon a moment to focus on the bottle—Tylenol. He looked up and Alan was squatting down next to his head, a water bottle in his hand.

"Thought you might need some."

"I'd rather suffer right now." Gordon sighed and looked away. He wasn't ready to deal with the youngest yet.

"Gordon." It was a bit of a whiny voice, but Gordon knew his brother. He was just worried for him.

"Alright. Help me sit up." He was stiff, and it hurt to move, but Alan's hands were under his arms in an instant, the bottle in his hand before he could ask, and the pills counted out and handed to him.

Gordon looked down at the three pills. "Um, mind a couple more?"

"How many do you usually take?" Alan's eyes widened at that and took a step back, holding the bottle closer.

"Five." Gordon didn't look at him, but could still see his reaction.

Alan's mouth dropped open, closed and then opened again. "Absolutely not. You get three and that is all."

"Three won't help." Gordon tried to reason and was going to say more but another cramp caused him to cringe. He hoped that was enough proof for him.

"Alright. Answer some questions first then." Alan had his arms crossed.

Gordon groaned, not because of his back, though—he was sure Alan was going to demand answers.

"Is your back hurting because of a disk issue? Do you think you may have injured one or more than one?"

Gordon blinked. That had not been the question he expected. He had to stop and think about the pain he was feeling. It hurt, but it wasn't a deep hurt and it wasn't radiating down his legs. "No."

"Did you pull or strain a muscle?"

Where was Alan going with this? His brother wasn't into medicine like Virgil. Though they were all required basic medic licensing. Gordon had yet to get his, but he had an excuse. Was this Alan just going into rescuer mode? Gordon forced his question to the back of his mind and concentrated on his back. Allowed himself to feel the pain. "No. I just haven't been strengthening my back like I should have been doing. I've gone to the gym occasionally, but I need to be doing it everyday."

"So they're just tired."

"Yeah, pretty much."

Alan relaxed and stowed the battle back in his pocket. "Good. Three's your limit."

"Alan!" Gordon was the whiny one now. He knew three was not going to do it, he was going to be in pain the entire way back, and not good company—not that he was going to be good company either way, but still.

"Take them and lay on your stomach." There was no arguing. Alan was on his knees in the dirt, helping Gordon down before he could even protest.

Gordon quickly threw the pills into the back of his throat, took a gulp of water and allowed himself to be laid down. Alan had pulled his shirt up, the cool dirt under him a shock, but a bit of a relief—the day had been hot and he was still sweating.

"What are you doing?" Gordon tried to twist, but Alan put a firm hand on his shoulder stopping him.

"Just be patient." Alan started to prod Gordon's back. First a finger here and there, then two, then three. Finally the prodding stopped and he could feel the heel of Alan's hand press into his back. It hurt at first, but then the pain lessened. He continued, pushing and rubbing and well, Gordon couldn't deny it—Alan was giving him a damn good massage.

Gordon groaned as a smile tugged at his lips. "Where did you learn to do this?"

"School. Just this last semester." Alan was still going at it, going over his entire back, a few times sitting up on his knees to get to a particularly tough knot. "After your accident, I asked the doctors if there was something I could learn to help you out. One of them suggested massage. So, I took one of the massage classes that was part of the Sports Medicine major. I almost didn't get in, the class was full and majors got first dibs. I went to the teacher, though, and told her the situation—she agreed to squeeze me in."

"And how did you do?"

"Not so great on the written part. Just couldn't remember all the names of these muscles back here, or the bones, or joints, and dang there are a lot of parts in the body."

Gordon laughed.

"But I aced the practical part. Everyone agreed that I gave some of the best messages of the whole class."

"How would they know?"

"Who do you think we practiced on?" Alan laughed, and Gordon couldn't help but join in.

Alan continued in silence though, concentrating on Gordon's back, which Gordon was glad of. He had been afraid he'd demand answers from him, an explanation. Instead, they just listened to the birds.

"Keep this up, and I'm going to fall asleep right here." it wasn't a threat, it as a certainty.

"Can't have that."

Suddenly his hands were gone and his shirt was pulled back down. Gordon sighed. He wasn't ready for it to be over.

"We need to talk."

Gordon groaned again, this one completely different than the ones before. Yeah, it was bound to happen. "I'm not really in the mood to talk right now."

"I'm not going to help you back until you tell me what is going on."

"Fine leave your brother, crippled, in the middle of the dirt path?" Gordon knew Alan wouldn't, knew he could guilt trip him into helping him, knew he could avoid this talk until later.

"If that's what you prefer." Alan shrugged, stood, and walked away.

"Hey, wait a second. Alan!" Gordon tried to look behind him, but didn't see anything. Alan was gone. "Alan! Alan? Seriously? Shit! Alright, fine, we'll talk."

Alan was back next to him in moments. "Thought you might change your mind." He was smiling down at him.

Gordon growled a little. "Where did you learn that from, huh?"

"You."

"Ah, yeah, probably. You know you're not supposed to use those tricks on your teacher."

"All's fair in love and war, and getting what you want," Alan recited his smile widening.

"Damn, I taught you too well." Gordon sighed and rested his head on the dirt.

"Want me to help you roll over to your back?"

"Yes, that would be great. The dirt's not that pretty." Gordon couldn't help a small smile as Alan helped him to roll over. The sky was growing ever so darker and a few of the brighter stars were starting to make their appearance. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Like from the big bang everything?"

Alan looked down at him from the side and then rolled his eyes. "Like why you slept in Four the first two weeks. Why you've been keeping to your yourself. Why you've been avoiding me. Why you haven't been talking to anyone. Why you—"

"Whoa." Gordon couldn't help but stare up at his brother. "You knew I was sleeping in Four?"

"Didn't everyone?"

"As far as I was aware only Virgil and probably Dad—and they only found out after the accident in One." Gordon tried to lean up on his elbow a little to see his brother better.

"Yeah, about that too." Alan turned and looked down at him, his brows drawn together.

Gordon was suddenly struck with how much he resembled both Scott and John when they were mad—Scott in the eyes and brows and John in the mouth. "Look, Alan. I've been dealing with some issues." He sighed and lowered himself back down again.

"No kidding." Alan flopped down on his back next to Gordon, looking up at the sky above them. "Depression, anxiety, nightmares—just to name a few."

"How—"

"I learned a long time ago to look for signs and to read the signs. Also, if I didn't understand them to look them up. You all have always tried to _protect me_ by keeping things from me. I had to learn to find out what was going on on my own." Gordon could feel Alan shrug next to him. Gordon knew what he meant, had done the same thing in the past. He realized that it had been stupid from the beginning to try and hide anything from Alan.

"Why didn't you come talk to me sooner?"

"I guess, I just didn't want to worry you even more. You were dealing with so much as it was. I didn't want you to think you had to worry about me too." Alan sighed and raised his hand above him. "We're going up there tomorrow, you know."

Gordon smiled as he turned to look at his brother, but he wasn't glowing like he thought he would. "Aren't you excited?"

"I should be, but I'm more worried about you."

"Don't be. I can handle it."

"But that's the thing. You can't." Alan turned to look at Gordon, his face drawn his mouth in a frown. "That's what you've been trying to do this whole time and what has it gotten you? A melt down after almost crashing One? About killing yourself and destroying Four? Getting Virgil so mad at you he can't look at you without frowning and storming away—and I didn't think any of us could make him that mad."

A burst of laughter bubbled its way out of Gordon. He laughed so hard, his back was starting to hurt. He was crying from the laughing and was almost to the point that he couldn't breath from it.

"Gordon?" Alan was sitting up again, looking down at him, his hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I'm—I'm fine." He waved him away and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "I—I was so afraid to tell you and here you were right on top of it. Really, why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I didn't think you'd take me seriously. Just tell me not to worry and walk away."

"That does sound like something I would do." Gordon took another deep breath. "But you can also be persistent and annoying. You should have used that."

"I thought about it, but I didn't want to get into a fight like you and Virgil were doing."

"Ah." Alan was a pacifist. He hated any kind of fighting, so that made a lot of sense. "How about now? Virgil and I aren't even talking to each other."

"I know." Alan said it as if it was a miracle in and of itself. As if there was no way any of his brothers could ever be so mad at one another to stop communicating at all. "That's why. You have to talk to him Gordon. If you don't—" Alan turned his head away, staring at the rocky wall that marked one side of the path.

"If I don't, what?" Gordon rolled carefully over onto his side.

"If you don't, I think your depression will only get worse." He was quiet as he said it, still looking away form Gordon.

"But my depression as gotten better. A lot better."

"Yeah, it has. But it has also worn you down." Alan sat up, and crossed his legs. "I'm just afraid that if you don't make up with him, that—well, I'm glad Dad gave you that ultimatum. If something like today happened on a real rescue, I'm not sure you'd survive it."

"You heard that, huh?"

"We could hear everything."

Gordon struggled to sit up, but he did. "I know I need to talk to Virgil. I just don't know how."

"It's easy. Just say, 'Hey, Virgil, here is the reason I'm mad at you.'"

"I'm not entirely sure what the reasons are myself though." Gordon slumped a little, his back still twitching a bit.

Alan sighed and stood up. "We need to get you back to the house. We'll be leaving early in the morning. Hopefully by then you'll have figured it out."

Gordon nodded and understood. It wasn't Alan's job to tell him what was wrong, he was just there to support him. He needed to figure some things out on his own still.

* * *

Gordon was annoyed. He was strapped into his seat in the cargo hold of Three—there was only room in the cockpit for four seats, but six of them were traveling up to Five. It was decided that Gordon and Virgil were the least likely to fly the rocket and thus did not absolutely need to be up there during the flight. So Gordon was annoyed. Not because he was in the cargo hold—nothing back there but some parts, supplies, and two seats. Not even because Virgil was there—though that wasn't helping. He needed to talk to him, he knew, just right then wasn't the best time.

No, what annoyed him was the fact that his father insisted that he be hooked up to a heart monitor. A heart monitor of all things! He didn't even have issues with his heart on One. He hadn't had issues with his heart at all since they apparently had to shock him back to life just after his accident. His father wouldn't relent though, so he sat in his seat, the AED machine sitting on Virgil's lap just incase he needed a shock halfway to space. Gordon was glad they had kept Alan from seeing. The last thing he needed were those sad puppy eyes looking at him.

"Are you two all set back there?" Their father's voice echoed in the large open space.

"We're ready." Virgil replied glancing over at Gordon, who just ignored him.

"Alright, launch in thirty seconds."

Gordon crossed his arms and turned his head away from Virgil. He didn't want to complain—because they had every right to leave him behind, but it was hard not to say anything.  
"Here we go, in five, four, three, two, one!" Their father sounded like a little kid, Gordon could even imagine the smile on his face.

The ship rumbled around them, and Gordon could feel the force of it as it took off. It was intense. Slowly the pressure on him grew heavier and heavier, it was starting to get hard to breath and blackness was creeping into his sight. He wasn't sure how long he would last, he was sure he would black out eventually. He took a quick glace over at Virgil, who seemed to be having just as much trouble as he was. That as good. He wouldn't be the only one unconscious. He looked forward again, tried to take as deep of a breath as he could, and then it was quiet.

It was the same quiet that had been there the whole time. He could hear the water lapping against the hull of the ship. He could hear the creaking as the metal around him settled. He was sure the ship was still floating—could feel the slow up and down of the surface of the water. The wall was in front of him, though still a good foot away. There was a lot of air, he would be able to last awhile, but how long was awhile? He could see the door that led to the corridor, it was open, so there was all the air up there as well as what was left in the cabin.

Even so, it was starting to get harder to breath. Not that it had been easy in the first place. Whatever was pinning him down, wasn't allowing him to take anything close to a full breath—and when he tried he was met with a searing shock of pain.

Light still illuminated what little he could see around him, but the more minutes that passed, the more he wished it would just go out. Of course, it seemed as if he wouldn't have to wait too much longer. Blackness had appeared on the edge of his vision now. He would be blacking out sooner rather than later. He slowly lifted his left arm—it was shaking and it was all he could do to keep it steady enough to read the numbers on the face of his watch—just past seven o'clock.

He had gone up to the bridge to talk to her sometime before one. They hadn't been talking long when she had noticed the jump in the gauge. That meant that he had been there for something like six hours. If no one had come by now, they would probably be waiting until tomorrow to retrieve the bodies, and he would just be one of them. He closed his eyes, and let himself drift into the blackness.

"I'm just about to the bridge, looks like the air pocket is still good for a couple of feet."

"Remember, concentrate on getting all the bodies for now. There should only be one on the bridge, a Lieutenant Cindy Williams."

"I know. As soon as we get this done we can go home. Last thing I wanted to spend my night doing."

"If it hadn't been for the higher ups arguing all day we could have had it done by now."

Gordon could hear everything, and should have been excited that there were people here. They were so close, but he was so exhausted. He forced his eyes open when the water rippled. The diver had lowered himself in. He tried to look above him, but his neck was stiff and cold—not a good sign.

"I think I found her."

"That was fast."

"She's pinned down. I'll have to see if I can get her free."

"Just let me know if you need Danvers to come and cut for you."

"Will do."

Gordon could feel the water move around him as the diver moved closer. He tried to turn his head, to say something, make some kind of sound, but there was just no energy left in him. The diver reached down, he could feel his hand on his back and then it was gone. He heard a grunt and then pain. If he could have he would have yelled out. But a sharp intake and a gag as a little water splashed into his mouth was all he was capable of.

Luckily the diver noticed. Not the breath, but jerk of his muscles in response to the movement.

"Shit. Thomas. Send Danvers down, now! Make sure he has an emergency rebreather with him. This one is still alive."

Gordon slowly opened his eyes again—he had closed them when the pain had hit, but all he saw was the gray wall.

"Lieutenant?" There was a hand on his shoulder and then eyes above him—they were brown, like Virgil's. "Lieutenant Tracy? Can you hear me?"

Gordon wanted to say yes, but his mouth was currently occupied with breathing. Instead he closed his eyes and opened them again.

"Good, stay with me. We'll get you out of here." The hand was still on his shoulder, but the movement in the water felt as if his body moved away a bit. "Thomas, get an evac heli out here ASAP. I don't think he'll last going back by boat. Even by air is going to be risky."

"Understood. Danvers just went under. Sent the full emergency kit with him."

"Good, I'll need the back brace. He's pinned against part of the bulkhead pretty good." He was there again, looking straight down at Gordon. "Blink once for yes. Twice for no."

Gordon blinked once.  
"Can you feel your feet?"

A pause, but two slow blinks.

"How about your right hand?"

One blink.

"Alright, don't worry. You'll be out of here soon."

Gordon wasn't so sure about it. He was happy someone knew, knew he hadn't died during the crash. He wasn't sure if that would be a comfort or not for his family. Hoped it was, hoped they wouldn't spend too much time morning him.

Gordon clenched his eyes shut as tight as he could—would have shook his head if he had been able. No. He'd lasted six hours, he could last longer. He needed to see his family again. He wasn't going to be the reason for them to cry—well, more than they probably already were. This was just going to be his biggest prank yet. Ha, you thought I was dead, well you were wrong. Ha! Ha!

Gordon couldn't hear anything anymore, or rather nothing more than the noise of static. There was something on his head, a hood or helmet he couldn't tell, but it was muffling everything. He was being moved now. He was strapped down onto something solid—backboard probably. Couldn't move anything, even his left hand. He was vertical, then horizontal, then at some weird angle. He couldn't see anything except the gray walls of the ship. They were trying to get him out of the ship more than likely. How long had it taken them to cut him out? What did he look like? Was there anything left to save?

There was another sharp shot of pain, and a hiss. He realized he was breathing a little easier now, oxygen at full force blowing onto his mouth and nose. He also noticed that the pain was different. Before it was waist up—right into his shoulders, neck, and head. This time, he could have sworn it went waist down instead. For a moment, he even thought he could feel his toes.

Gordon opened his eyes, he was horizontal again. It was night, but he could see flood lights off to his side. He was by himself for the moment and even with the bright lights he could see the stars above him. They were bright, shining like Christmas lights far off in the distance. He wanted to see Christmas again. He would make sure to put even more lights on the house this year. They would be able to see it from space. John would still be in space—he wasn't due back till the beginning of next year. Maybe he'd be abel to see their house and know they were thinking about him.

Gordon had missed last Christmas, had been stuck doing research. He had been able to send them a message, but that had been all. This year he had plans to make up for it. He had hunted down one of Scott's old teachers from high school. One of his own as well. It was a math teacher—one that none of the brothers had particularly liked, though their father seemed to get along with him quite well. Scott had always excelled, but that class he had struggled in—got his first F in. Gordon had been exchanging messages with the teacher and he had been able to find that F. He had printed the report out, wrote a note and signed it.

'Dear Scott,' it read, 'I know we never got along, but I was only trying to push you. When you got this F, you were ready to drop the class to give up on Statistics. Your father nor I wanted to see you do that. You went on to get a degree in Mathematics and I couldn't have been more proud of you. I want you to see this grade and know that even when things seem like they couldn't get any worse, like everything in the world is telling you to give up—to ignore it and keep going. I'm sure you're father would agree with me. I look forward to see how important you become, because I'm sure you will change the world. Jack Humman.'

John had been harder, he hadn't figured anything out for him yet, but maybe the Christmas light thing would work. He'd have to think about it.

Alan had been hard too, but he at least had thought of something. All he wanted was to race and go to space. His father had forbidden the former once he had hit collage—claiming he needed to concentrate on his studies. But that hadn't stopped Alan—he was racing behind his father's back. Gordon had done some research and had found a man he thought would be perfect as Alan's racing manager—he was also someone he thought would have what it took to stand up to Jefferson Tracy. There was a message in his inbox from him right that moment, he'd have to remember to get back to him.

Virgil. He still didn't know what to get Virgil. He was one of those people who wouldn't tell you what they wanted, would just say that they would like anything you picked out. He was also the one that had no input when you went out to eat, would never actually choose the restaurant. That aggravated Gordon to no ends. But he loved his brother. He was probably closer to Virgil than he was Alan, and that was saying something. Alan was his play buddy. Virgil was his conscious—when he choose to let his conscious know what was going on at least. Any time he had questions, it was Virgil he went to. How do you shop for someone like that?

"How's he doing?" Gordon could hear the clomp of feet as they came closer.

"Still awake, and stable. How long till the helijet comes?" Someone had been sitting with him, he hadn't even noticed.

There was movement and the voices softened. "I'm not sure he'll last that long."

"I know. They're saying that all the available jets are out on missions. I'm not glued to the social sphere but I know this is big news stateside. We let this one die and WASP is going to get one hell of a battering from it."

Gordon took in a shallow sigh—it was the best he could do at the moment. He wanted to tell them to call his Dad. He would have something here within five minutes.

"Just keep him going. I'll go yell in someone's ear again."

Gordon looked back up at the stars. He hadn't decided on anything for his Dad yet, or his Grandma either. He still had time. It was only June. He was getting tired again. Maybe a short nap, and by then they'd have him on his way to land.

When Gordon woke again it was to a pounding headache. He tried to move, but was still strapped down. He opened his eyes and was met with a gray wall. His breath started to come in shallow gasps—he had survived, hadn't he? He was alive and out and waiting on a stupid helijet. Why was there a gray wall in front of him!

"Whoa, calm down."

Gordon didn't hear the voice. Didn't recognize that several things were different. For one, the rivets in this wall were off to the side, smooth and still firmly seated in their holes. He was also not completely strapped down. He could move a little, but he was restrained. Most importantly, he could move and feel his legs. He was kicking them just now, trying to push himself away from where he was, but he couldn't move, couldn't get anywhere.

"Gordon, settle down!"

A hand was on his chest now, firm and strong. Gordon looked over and Virgil was next to him, steady as a rock.

"What? Where am I?"

"You're safe on Thunderbird 5." He had taken his hand away and was fumbling with something on Gordon's side. There was silence and then an audible zip. His limbs were free.

"Why am I strapped down?" Gordon was franticly pushing the top portion of his 'bed' away while trying to dismiss the dreams from his head.  
"Otherwise you would have floated away." Virgil was watching him, no smile, nothing, just watching.

It took Gordon a moment for the words to click and for him to realize that he was, in fact, floating just a little.

"But I thought—a gravity ring, right?"

"It's not functioning yet. I need to do some checks before we start it up."

"Why haven't you?"

"Because I was worried about you." His eyebrows raised a little at that, and then a sigh as he pushed himself away.

"How long have I been out?"

"Half way through launch, till now, so just a few hours."

"Why are you here?"

"Didn't I just answer that?"

"I mean you specifically. Why not someone else, like Alan?"

"He wanted to, but Dad wouldn't let him."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

Gordon sighed and pushed himself away from the ceiling of his bed. "I can't read your mind."

"Nope, just like I can't read yours."

Gordon frowned, not sure what he meant by that. "Is it just cause you're the medic?"

Virgil sighed and crossed his legs as he floated in the space between the bunks. "Dad said that as soon as you woke up we were to get things settled between us."

It felt as if a wall as just dropped, sealing him into the cubby of his bed. He wasn't ready to talk to him, he needed some more time to think.

"What is going on Gordon?"

"I don't know."

"Well, neither do I." Virgil sighed and had to grab onto a bar in the wall as the station seemed to move around them. "Like I said, I can't read your mind."

"Glad of that." Gordon rolled his eyes.

"So, why are you mad at me? Because I gave you valium once, and make you continue to take medicine you need? Because if that is it, then I would do it again in a heartbeat and I could care less what you think."

"God, why do you have to act like you're so clueless?" Gordon pulled himself from the bunk and pushed himself down so he was watching the Earth below them.

"Because I am."

"Lier!" He straightened up and glared at Virgil. "You tell me I'm fine, you tell me everything is going to be okay, and it is not. I'm not fine, I'm not okay. You should know I'm not!"

"I don't know that, and honestly, neither do you!"

"You were going to give me more valium."

"I thought it would help."

"I didn't need it."

"Alright. No more valium. But you are still going to take your medicine."

"I will." Gordon nodded a little. "I does help."

"I'm glad to hear that, at least." Virgil pushed himself down so he was even with Gordon. "Just talk to me. Tell me what is going on."

"I do talk to you."

"No you haven't and what little you have hasn't even been that truthful. Hell, you've told John more than what you've told me."

"He told you?"

"Because he assumed I already knew."

"Didn't you?" Gordon was getting confused now. Out of everyone Virgil knew him the best, and yes he had been fibbing to him, but he knew he had been fibbing. He should have been able to read through the lines, right?

"I can't read your mind. I don't know what you are thinking." Virgil leaned his head on the wall next to him and let out a deep sigh.

"You used to. You always knew what I was thinking."

"Yeah, but you've never had these issues before. I don't know what your mind is doing anymore."

That made Gordon back up a moment—literally, he pushed his back up against the wall and frowned. They had talked about that, back on the plane to the island. They had discussed about how Gordon had changed and they didn't know if it was for the best or not. Gordon still didn't know, to be honest, but he had changed, and Virgil had to learn about him all over again. Why did he think that would have been easy? Why would he have assumed that Virgil could read his mind and know what he was thinking?

Gordon pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. He had been afraid that it had all been his fault, and for good reason it seemed. "I'm sorry." It was more of a whisper than anything and he had to take a deep breath to keep the tears in—crying in zero-g was something he did not want to experience.

Virgil was there in an instant pulling him into a tight hug. "Don't be sorry. Remedy it. Just talk already."

Gordon wrapped his arms around him and squeezed back. He had needed it, needed it more than anything at that moment. "I'm scared. I used to live off of being scared, it was a high. But this is different. I can only think of bad things happening. I hate it and I'm tired of it."

Virgil let go, but kept a hand on his shoulder as he talked. He told him everything he could think of. Everything he had thought of. Told him about his talks with his brothers, with their dad. Told him his fears, his worries. He told him everything, and probably more.

They talked for hours, and only came to a stop when the door hissed open and Alan peeked through.

"Is everything okay?" he had one hand on the door, the rest of his body hiding off to the side.

"Yea. Everything is good." Gordon smiled, a large one, ear to ear even. When he opened his eyes again he could see Alan visibly relax and allow himself to float into the center of the doorway.

"Are you guys hungry? It's almost Lunch time."

"Ah man, I can't wait. What kind of food do we have up here?" Gordon pushed himself away from the wall and caught the door as he reached Alan.

"I'm not sure. Brains was saying he was working on something other than just rations." Alan was smiling a little more now, his eyes brightening. "Either way, it's still pretty portioned. We'll get one tray each."

"Well, then, you better hurry up Virgil or I'm taking your tray for myself." Gordon pushed himself down the hall, Alan quickly following.

"Hey! You better not! I'm hungry!" It took Virgil a second, but he soon caught up to the two and started to race them to where the food was.

They spent spent the following week getting Five up and ready. It only took Virgil a couple of hours to get the gravity ring going—Alan and Gordon spent the rest of the day having races. The next day their father and John had them outside practicing. Gordon seemed to take to zero-g as well as he did water. Virgil on the other hand had a bit more trouble getting his space legs. John had Gordon up in the main comm sphere showing him the scans of the island and they spent an entire day arguing about their precision—their father off to the side laughing at them.

The week had gone by in no time, and it was soon time to go back home. John was being left behind—Virgil and Gordon still on the active duty list. Plus they had only one day until the official start of International Rescue. Gordon wasn't sure how things were going to go. But he was sure that they were going to be okay. Not one-hundred percent all of the time maybe, but okay.


	9. Back on the Diving Block

Chapter 9: Back on the Starting Block

They should have been tired, exhausted even. However, as Thunderbird 3 eased itself back into its silo, it's occupants were wound up and excited. It had been a long busy week aboard Thunderbird 5. Her systems had been checked and double checked. Scans ran and rerun to make sure everything was functioning. Virgil had been all over the station checking her mechanical components and running a constant conversation with Brains back on Earth. Of all of the birds, this was the one they would depend on the most.

Gordon was tired—the decent in Three, while not as bad as the ascent, had still taken a lot out of him. He was excited though. He was starting to feel that old confidence in himself again. He knew he would make it though whatever was thrown at him—it would be a struggle for sure, but he knew nothing was going to stop him.

He was sitting on one of the couches, playing a video game with Alan, when there was a beep and John's torso appeared above them. "Hey, John. Just couldn't stand not seeing me huh?" Gordon was smiling, but it faded when John ignored him.

"Dad, I have Colonel Casey on the line. She says it's urgent."

"Patch her through." Their father was behind his desk, like always, going through e-mails and other bits of communications.

"Colonel Tracy." The woman that appeared on the table was standing straight, her hands behind her back. Her dark hair in a tight bun at the base of her neck and her eyes on their father. Gordon knew the woman, she was an old friend of their father's, and had visited him several times while he had been in the hospital. But he had never seen her in uniform or looking so serious.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm retired. Stop calling me Colonel." His father chuckled a little, but it died down when she maintained her stern expression. "What's going on?"

"I need a little help. I know your organization does not go active for another day, but there is a situation in China that could use some of the miracles you promised."

"I would be happy to help, but our permits don't allow us to operate till tomorrow. Should we try to do a rescue today, we could be grounded."

"The higher-ups are aware of this and are processing the necessary—"

"Dad." John's hologram was back, floating just behind Colonel Casey. "I just received a message saying that our permits have been activated early."

"Good to know they can act fast when necessary." Their father couldn't seem to help smiling a little. "Very well, then. John, are you aware of this situation the GDF are having troubles with?"

"Yes, I've been monitoring it closely. I was going to mention it, but the GDF were on the scene so I was trusting that they would handle it."

"We have been trying, but—" Colonel Casey was looking back at their father again and just gave the slightest of shrugs. "There was a mud slide in a remote village. The area has been pummeled with rain for days until finally the mountain could not take anymore."

"The GDF should have the necessary machines to deal with a mudslide." Their father was leaning forward, his head in a hand as his thumb stroked his cheek as he thought.

"Normally our equipment is satisfactory for the job, but in this situation it is only making things worse."

"I've brought up the details here." John and Colonel Casey's holograms were pushed off to the side as a large map of the area popped up. "The ground is saturated with water and extremely unstable. It looks like the equipment they've tried to send up has only caused more mud to fall, and more people to be trapped."

"I see. Our pods could possibly make it up a bit easier, and Two would be above them to evacuate those they find."

Gordon was already on his feet. "Dad, Alan and I can man the pods so Scott can manage things from the bottom."

"Agreed." His father reached for a button on his desk. "Scott, Virgil. You're needed in the lounge."

It took only a minute for their two older brothers to show up, another quick minute for their father to explain the situation, and then they were off. Gordon was jealous of his brother's exits for their gear-ups. Virgil disappeared behind a portrait of a rocket, and Scott behind the wall. Alan shared one with their father, but only when he was going to Three. Since they would both be riding with Virgil they were together in the elevator that would take them to the locker room. They changed into their uniforms quickly, Alan still pulling on his boots as he followed Gordon from the room and down a small set of stairs into Two's hanger.

Virgil had already loaded up one of the modules, the platform lowered, and waiting for them. Gordon slung his yellow utility sash over his head as the elevator jerked into motion, fastening it at the waist and adjusting it as they reached the cockpit.

"Took you two long enough." Virgil smirked as he initiated the launch sequence.

"Tell Dad to get my gear-up tube done and then I'll be waiting on you." Gordon shot back as he sat down in the co-pilots seat. Alan was behind Virgil as the big plane started it's taxi.

"You two nervous?"

Gordon looked back at Alan who was smiling from ear to ear. "Yeah. A little. But excited too."

"I'll admit, I'm a little nervous too."

"Really? I wonder if Scott is?"

"Oh he's freaking out. Running through every scenario in his head right now. John's trying to talk him down." Virgil's smile widened as he tapped at the receiver in his ear.

"Don't worry. Once he arrives on the scene he'll have it all under control." Gordon's smile faded a little. A bit of doubt was creeping it's way into his own mind. Would he be able to do it? Yes, yes he would. He was well trained, responsible, and damn good at what he did.

That thought took him a little off guard. When was the last time he had thought that? Not just thought it, but believed it. Like anything else was just a stupid idea not to even bother with. It had been a long time. A year, at least. But the fears, the anxiety of the past month—no the past year—seemed like a shadow at the moment. Something that was there, behind him, but not really affecting him anymore. It was if a switch had been flipped in his brain, and all those thoughts had been turned off, or at least muted. Minimized by some machine Brains had invented. No longer something he was willing to worry over. Not something he cared to think about at all.

"Gordon?"

Gordon jumped a little, and looked over to Virgil. "Yea?"

"You okay?"

"Fine. Great even." Gordon smiled. This was how smiles worked, they weren't supposed to be hard or forced, they were just supposed to happen.

Virgil opened his mouth, possibly to argue, but shut it. "Good. What about you squirt?"

"I… I don't know." Alan wasn't bouncing in his seat like he had been a moment ago. He was wringing his hands in his lap avoiding the eyes of both his brothers. "I mean, you guys have tons of experience. What about me? This is my first job. I've got a lot to live up to."

"And you'll do just fine." Virgil laughed. "Just remember—both of you—if you start to second guess yourself just start talking. Talk out your thoughts. We'll let you know if you're wrong. Trust me, we'll be more than happy to."

"Talk it out, right." Alan smiled a little again.

"We'll be fine. If I'm saying it, it's gotta be true. Right?" Gordon was still smiling. He couldn't believe how excited he was or how confident he was feeling.

"We're in approach, best get down to the pods and get them ready."

Gordon nodded, and followed Alan over to the lift. "Deep breath, lil bro. Anything happens to you and I'll be there to help. Something happens to me and you'll be right there, right?"

"Right." Alan nodded and they were on their way.

Gordon was sitting in the pod, the air silent around him as they waited for Virgil to drop the module. He took the moment to think. Not like he had been in the past mouth—that pointless running of his mind that he couldn't control. This was the type of thinking that actually helped him. The type of thinking he did before a mission in WASP. The type of thinking he did before a race at the Olympics. He hadn't been able to think like this for a year and he missed it.

With his mind blank, he looked into himself. He wasn't at his best, he knew that. But he was still in good enough shape to do what he needed to do. He had Brains' machines to help, and his brothers to back him up. There was no reason he couldn't complete the mission with ease.

"Gordon."

Gordon snapped his eyes open and looked over at Alan who was giving him the thumbs. But it wasn't Alan that had said his name. The voice was over the comms, it was Scott. The front of the module was lowering.

"Gordon?" Scott again, worry lined his tone.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"How you doing?"

"Just fine. What's the plan?"

Scott's voice was hesitant. "Gordon."

"Scott. I'm fine. Really. I'm ready. Give it to me."

"Right." His tone had firmed, turned into the commanding voice of his position. "You're going to go up the north side of the mountain. They think there are five families up that way that need help."

Gordon could see Alan straighten up as his comms were opened up as well.

"Alan, you have the south side. There are three families over there."

"What about the middle?" The door to the module was open, and Gordon shot out of it, passing onlookers and his brother as he made his way up the mountain.

"As far as we can tell all the homes in the middle got pushed down. I'm going to help them move mud and save those we can."

"F.A.B." Gordon allowed a small smile, but it was gone quickly, it was time to be serious. The pod sped up through the mud with out a single issue. He could see the tops of the houses, people clinging to them waiting for help.

"Virgil, I have victims on the north side waiting for rescue."

"I'm on my way."

Gordon stopped his pod and jumped out onto the nearest roof. "Hey, John, could do with some translations about now."

"I'm on it." John's voice echoed out of the pod as he explained what was going to happen to the people who were shying away as Thunderbird 2 appeared above them.

Gordon frowned a little. He wasn't sure exactly what John had told them, wasn't sure if they realized they were there to help. But once they had been on more missions the sight of that big green machine would be a sign of hope, he was sure.

The rescue platform was lowered and soon Gordon helped each of the families into the seats, talking to them soothingly even though they probably had no idea what he was saying. It took multiple trips but they were all eventually safe in the belly of Virgil's bird.

Gordon jumped back into his pod and strapped in. "John, do you have any other life signs in this area?"

"Yes, there are four just east of your current location. They're weak though. You need to hurry."

"F.A.B." Gordon put the pod in gear and took off.

There was no sign of any other houses. It had all been covered with the mud from the land slide. He made it to the location and started digging.

"Gordon, be careful, a wrong move could send the mud going again."

"I know, John. Just let me know if you see movement." Gordon was concentrating on the hole he was digging, he could see the thatch from the roof. Now, he just had to make his way inside. He used the arms of the pod to open up a hole. "I found the hut, I'm going in."

"Gordon, wait. The land is unstable, you need to get out of there."

"If I leave now, they won't stand a chance. Get Virgil here and we'll get them out."

"Gordon, I'm not joking, I'm seeing movement just up from your location."

"Then get Virgil here, now!"

"Gordon!" It was Virgil on the line now. "Look out!"

Gordon was half out of the pod when he turned to look up, a wave of mud tumbling his way. He couldn't just leave them. With a hole in their roof they would be buried alive. He shut himself back in the pod and positioned it over the hole he had made, anchoring it as best he could—he was not going to let them die.

"Gordon!" Virgil.

"Gordon!" Alan.  
"Damnit, Gordon, respond!" Scott.

"John, do you have life signs?" His father.

"Yeah, five life signs."

"If he is in the p-pod he should be o-okay." Brains.

Gordon could hear the voices. Yet, he wasn't sure he was awake.

"I'm on my way over." Alan.

"Be careful, the land is still unstable." John.

"I'm right above him." Virgil.

His head hurt. He must have hit it when the mud hit him. He'll have to remember to wear his helmet next time. His hand was to his head, he could feel some wetness—blood probably. He opened his eyes, it was dark, and the lights on the controls were bright.

"I'm here. Mostly."

"Gordon!" It was all of them. He could hear the relief in their voices and he couldn't help but smile. "Hit my head, but I'm alright."

"Alan is trying to get to you. You shouldn't be too deep."

"Am I still on top of the house?"

"Yes, they're still alive, but—"

Gordon cut his father off. "They are the priority. I can hear Alan above me. I'll access the secondary hatch in the pod and we can transfer the family through the pod to Two. That way we won't have to move too much more mud."

"Gordon, we need to get you out of there first." He could hear the low growl in Virgil's voice.

"I know you're worried about me, but I'm fine. We need to get these people out now."

"I agree with Gordon." The background chatter stopped at their father's voice. "Alan, move just enough mud to clear the main hatch for the pod. Gordon get to work."

"F.A.B." Gordon slid his seat back, uncovering the round secondary hatch in the pod. It slid open, but he was only half way over the hole he had created. That didn't phase him though, it was thatch, expanding the hole wasn't going to be too hard.

He was down in the hut in no time. The four family members huddled in the corner. It was dark, and cold and the only light was from the controls back in the pod. "This is Pod A. I'm in the hut with the family. How close is Alan to uncovering the pod?"

"I'm letting in some light right now."

The sunlight was weak as he filtered into the dark hut, but that light seemed to animate the small family.

"We'll have to bring them up one at a time." A shadow blocked the light as Two hovered above them.

"F.A.B. I'm waiting for the harness." He could feel a small puff of fresh air as the hatch was opened on the pod. He watched as a darker shadow slowly grew bigger. It as an odd shape though, and gordon frowned, his head thumping even harder as the shape made its's way down to him.

"Knock, knock."

"Alan, what are you doing?"

"Helping."

"Last thing we need is both of us getting stuck down here."

"Don't worry. We won't." Alan smiled as he helped one of the kids into the harness.

Slowly one by one, the four members of the family were lifted to safety until Gordon and Alan were the last.

"Oldest first." Alan held the harness out to Gordon.

"No, youngest first."

"Injured first." Alan countered pointing to Gordon's head.

"Dang it."

"You heard your brother." His father's voice was light over the coms. The stress of the rescue gone.

Gordon rolled his eyes as he was lifted up from the depths of mud, Alan right behind him.

Gordon was sitting in the locker room. His uniform still on, caked with dried mud. It hadn't been a hard rescue, but he was feeling the stress of it even now, safe back on the island.

"You did good out there."

Gordon looked up and Virgil was standing behind him. He was clean and wearing his normal plaid shirt. "Have to admit, I was worried for a sec, though."

"Yeah, I could year you." Gordon smirked up at his brother and moved over so he could sit down.

"Did you have any issues?" Virgil was watching him. Trying not to stare but obviously worried.

"Honestly, no. I didn't. Well, other than hitting my head and blacking out." Gordon laughed.

"Honestly?" Virgil was frowning at him.

"Really. I'm telling the truth. I don't remember anything, just hearing you guys yelling at me."

"Why didn't you back off when we told you to?"

"Because we were there to rescue those people. If I had backed off the hut would have flooded with mud and they would have died. We were there to rescue people, no matter what it takes. That's what I did." Gordon had taken in a deep breath puffing out his chest. "Plus, Brains makes things to last. I was fine in the pod, no matter how much mud covered me."

"That's probably true, and I'm proud of you. You were a professional out there."

"Thanks. Doesn't mean I'm out of the water though. The true test will be my first solo mission in Four."

"We'll be with you. No matter where you are."

"Yeah, no that is getting a little creepy." Gordon couldn't help but laugh. If anything, going out and helping people helped him to remember who he was. All the stress from the past month seemed like it was so long ago. Not forgotten, and he knew this wasn't the end of it. It would take time to fully heal, but he was ready to deal with it now. Here, with his father and his brothers.

* * *

It was dark in the room, pitch black—but then it had been designed for that purpose. There was a holo screen in the front that took up the entire wall and two rows of seats. The front two middle seats were occupied by the two youngest Tracys—a large tub of popcorn between them.

They were in the middle of their movie marathon—well, part two of their marathon as least. Actually, part three. A rescue had interrupted them in the middle of the Lion King, six hours later they were back and watching more of the old Disney classics. They had wanted to stay up all night and finish watching every one of the movies ever made to date, but their father had stopped them.

'What if there was a rescue and you two where half asleep? Unacceptable. Bed, now.'

They understood, agreed with him even. So they had went to bed. Now, it was part three of their marathon and they were in the middle of Wall-E, one of Gordon's favorites—that little robot never gave up either.

"Gordon, there you are." John's torso popped up in place of the movie looking down at his two brothers. "There's a rescue, you're needed."

"Aw, come on, John. This is the best part! Wall-E is just about to use the fire extinguisher to fly around space." Gordon threw some popcorn at John's torso in protest, but then popped up an idea in his head. "Hey, you should try it one day. Drop the elevator and I'll sneak some extinguishers on board."

"Um, no." John's face was dead pan. "Gordon, we have a rescue. Hurry it up."

"Am I needed to?" Alan was half way out of his seat already.

"Sorry, not this time."

"Man, I hardly ever get to go."

"Sorry, Alan! Don't finish the movie without me!" Gordon was already out the door hurrying to the lounge.

His father was sitting at his desk, John's bust floating above the table when Gordon reached the lounge. "About time. Virgil is already on his way down to Two."

"I'll beat him there! Time me!" Gordon was past his father's desk in an instant and up the stairs to the balcony above the lounge.

This was probably one of the biggest secrets on the island, brand new as well. On the balcony, just above the fireplace was Gordon's gear-up entrance. It was a small hole that opened at the push of a button on his father's desk. He grabbed a bar above the hole and pulled his feet up throwing himself down the tube. It circled around Virgil's entrance and split off about half way down—one way would take him to a watery ending and direct access to Four should he leave direct from the island. The other to the entrance to Two's hanger so he could hitch a ride with Virgil.

He landed in Two's hanger just as the big green machine finished lowering itself on Four's module. He jogged over to the waiting lift as he pulled on his sash and air tanks, fastening his regulator to his shoulder as he did. He was adjusting the equipment as the lift jerked to a stop and he looked up and smiled at his brother.

"Hey, ho, bro! How's it going?"

"A little faster once you sit down and buckle up." Virgil smiled as Gordon sat down next to him and finished his preflight procedure. They taxied out and within moments they were flying high in the sky.

"So, Johnny cakes, what's up?"

"Don't call me that." John was before them, his torso floating above the dashboard. He took a moment to answer, watching Gordon carefully. "We have a situation in the Atlantic. Scott is almost there now."

"Well, quit dragging your feet and tell us." Gordon was relaxed, ready for whatever John could throw at him.

"A WASP hydrofoil has crashed and is actively sinking."

Gordon froze. The smile on his face vanished, his mind blank. How could it happen again? It could't happen again, he wouldn't let it! "Punch it, Virgil."

"I'm already going as fast as I can."

"Hold on, Scott's just arriving." John disappeared leaving Gordon and Virgil alone for a moment.

"You okay?" Virgil glanced over at Gordon, not quite frowning, but nearing it.

"It's been eight-hundred and eighty-eight days." Gordon took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Almost two and a half years. It hadn't been an easy time, but he had done it.

WASP had never released the details about the crash, but had stated that they had fixed the issue. From the looks of it though, Gordon wasn't entirely sure he believed them.

"I've got some bad news." John was back, his face showing every bit of annoyance that Gordon was suddenly feeling himself. "WASP has asked us to stay out of it."

"What?" Gordon was half out of his seat, his face in John's.

"Scott is arguing with the officer on site, and Dad is making some calls." John shrugged. "It's all we can do. We won't go into a site unwelcome."

"We can't just leave them!"

"Gordon, settle down." Virgil still had both hands on the yoke, but was glaring out of the corner of his eye. "We'll do what we can—"

Gordon wasn't listening, he was already leaning forward and calling their father. "Dad. You're not going to make us stand by are you?"

"My hands are tied, Gordon." His father was leaning on his hands a strained expression on his face. "The airspace above the wreck is restricted we're not allowed in."

"The airspace you say." Gordon narrowed his eyes and looked over at Virgil.

"Gordon, you're scheming."

"That I am."

"Gordon, whatever you're thinking, stop. We can't have a member of IR going rogue."

"Dad, if we let them do this on their own, it'll just be a repeat of my accident! They aren't even trying to save the people left onboard!"

"He's right, Dad, from what I can see, the ship is completely submerged and I'm still reading life signs. But it doesn't look like they've sent any divers or have done anything to stop the ship from doing down ay farther." Scott was there, his hologram next to his father's.

"John, any update?"

"Nothing good I'm afraid." John joined the holograms that floated on the dash of Thunderbird 2. "Rescue operations are on hold. Their trying to decide if it's worth the risk to send divers down."

"Dad!" Gordon was on his feet, his hands clenched next to him. "We can't just sit here and let those people die!"

His father was silent, but sighed. "Whatever it is you're planning, Gordon. I cannot know."

Gordon was already on the elevator when his father's torso disappeared.

"We aren't going to be able to help you." Virgil glanced back, his eyebrows drawn together.

"I'll be fine. Just release me when I say so."

"And what do I tell them when they see us release the module?"

"Just tell them that I'm going hang out so that I'm ready if they need me or something." Gordon was already well on his way as he yelled back at Virgil. He got into the module and threw himself into the cockpit as fast as he could. "Thunderbird 4 is ready for module deployment."

"Gordon, if this goes bad—" Virgil was there, floating before him.

"If this goes bad, then come in and save me. Simple as that." Gordon wasn't going to take it anymore. He wasn't going to let WASP repeat what they had done to him.

Virgil looked like he wanted to say something else, to argue, but he just pinched his lips and nodded. "Right. Releasing module."

Gordon held his breath as the moment of weightlessness hit him. It was over in an instant and the module's flap lowered. He rose the deployment ramp and Thunderbird 4 slid into the water.

He wasn't too far from the ship, he could see the huge shadow as it slowly drifted down into the depths of the sea. He zoomed right up to it, getting under the ship and seeing if he could lift it with Four alone.

Unfortunately the ship was too big. If Virgil could get there he could attach a line to it and haul it up, but that was an impossibility at the moment.

"John, can you tell me where the people are inside, and if it's flooded already?"

"Can't tell where the flooding is, but the life signs are right in the middle of the ship. Looks like there are about a half dozen still onboard."

"They've all gathered in one spot then?"

"Looks like it."

"Good." Gordon made his way over, latched onto the ship with one of his arms, and tried to hail the people in side. "Attention, this is International Rescue. We are here to get you to safety. Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" It was a chorus of replies and Gordon let out the breath of air he was holding.

"Is the compartment you're in filled with water, and if not do you have air?"

"It just now started to fill with water, it's not quite to our ankles yet. We have some air, but we're having to share it. Not sure how long it will last."

"Damn." Gordon hissed the word out between his teeth. He was going to have to cut his way into the ship, but there was no way of maintaining the air bubble once he cut into it. "Would you be able to hold your breath if I were to cut my way in?"

"A few of us, sure, but we have some newbies that are already starting to panic."

"Right. Alright. Here is the plan. I'll cut my way to your compartment. Once there, I'm going to cut a small hole—just big enough to slip some rebreathers in to you. I'll seal the hole up and give you some time to get everyone together, once you let me know you're ready I'll cut a bigger hole and we can all get out to my sub."

"I think that sounds doable." The voice that as talking to him was hesitant, but was trying to sound brave. They were all scared, he could tell.

Gordon grabbed a dozen rebreathers—they were packed small enough he could put them all in a small bag on his side—and headed out.

The ship was sinking fast and he took a quick glance up, but found no attempt at a rescue from those above him. He slipped on his welding suit and went to work. The outer haul opened up to a fully flooded corridor, but the walls of the ship had already started to buckle. It wasn't made for the pressure of the depths, he would have to hurry to get them out of there before the whole thing decided to implode on itself.

"John, they've changed the layout of the ship. Can you give me directions to the compartment the people are in?"

"I'm on it." John's voice was as always level and steady, the thing they all needed, rescuer and victim alike.

Gordon looked one way and then another, not sure which way to go. He decided to go left. John was taking a bit too long, usually he'd have the information in moments, but WASP was horrible about keeping everything a secret. Gordon continued down the corridor and found a set of stairs. He figured he was possibly on the middle deck, but he wasn't sure if he needed to go down or up, or even if he needed to stay on the same level.

"John, talk to me."

"I'm here, Gordon. I'm having trouble. That hydrofoil is one of their new ones, I'm not able to get access."

"So I'm on my own then."

"I'm still here and I've got my scans."

"Help me then. Do I need to go up or down?"

"Down. Probably only one level though."

"Probably? You got to do better than that."

"I'm rewriting the code for the scanner as we speak."

"That's my Johnny boy."

"Gordon." John whined a little at Gordon's nick-names.

"Now you know how I feel." It was Virgil, sticking his nose in. "You need to hurry it up. We're starting to get more slack about being here."

"I'll be out as soon as I find them." He was at the bottom of the stairs, and heading down the corridor before him.

"You're getting close. I've refined the scans and they're below you."

"Not good news, John."

"Sorry, Gordon."

"No time to go back though, I'll have to get to them from here." Gordon stopped and pushed open a nearby door. It was a control room, lined with computers around the perimeter but empty in the middle. It was perfect. He swam down to the floor and knocked. He knew they may not be able to reach the ceiling. He knocked again and was quiet. It took too long, was he really above them? Where John's scans accurate? Of course they were, this was John, John was perfection and if it wasn't he made it so it was.

Another slow minute passed and finally a soft knock on the floor below him. He pulled out his cutting torch and went to work. He was only making a small hole, just big enough to send the extra rebreathers through, then he would cover it up and let the pressure of the water seal it. He had the bag next to the hole, as soon as the metal popped free he would would cover it with the piece of metal he had found floating in the room.

It didn't take long, the water started rushing into the room and he threw the bag in and then laid the metal sheet over it, sealing it. He waited patiently, but he could feel the pressure changing, had to get them out as soon as possible. It seemed to take them forever, but finally there was another knock on the floor below him.

Gordon took the piece of metal off the floor and let the water rush in, it would be an easier cut with the water already there. It took him several minutes, but finally the final cut was there, and the hole opened up. He was met with six bodies, all moving and happy to see him. They wore the rebreathers—which were just makeshift helmets tied around their heads. They had basic communications ability, but the range was very limited.

"Everyone doing okay?"

"Yeah, thanks, buddy." The first guy he saw reached out for his hand. "We'd be goners if it hadn't been for you."

"Hey, I know you!" It was someone from the back of the group, and the others moved over so he could move to the front of the group. "You're Gordon Tracy."

"That's me!" Gordon smiled at him, but then looked closer. "Do I know you?"

"Not personally." The man was more of a boy, still had a baby face to him. "I think you knew my sister though."

"Ah, it's quite possible." Gordon was on tough ground, was this a sister he had flirted with and did not appreciate his attentions, or was this a sister he had dated a few times but got bored with. "We can catch up once we're out of here."

"Yeah, I think we all would appreciate that." The cadet smiled.

"Alright, everyone through the hole and out the door, to your right, up the stairs and then to your left. There is a hole in the side of the ship and my little yellow sup is holding on nearby." Gordon rattled off the instructions as he waved the last of the crew past him. He ducked into the hole to make sure there weren't any left and then followed after them.

The metal around him was staring to creak and whine even louder as he made his way to the stairs. The crew had just made it to the stairs and seemed to be waiting on him. He was just about to wave them on when the ship took a tumble knocking them all about.

"Keep going! The airlock is open and waiting on you." Gordon pushed the crew closest to him forward urging them to keep going. The sounds of the metal was getting more and more prominent, and it was starting to scare even Gordon.

"Gordon, how's it going?"

"I've got the crew out, John, and we're heading back to Four."

"You better hurry, I'm not sure how much longer the ship is going to last."

"You don't have to tell m—"

The wall was there again. It had been almost a year since he had last seen it. A blissful wall free year. It was there though, rivets and all. He thought he was over it, thought it was gone for good, but there it was. Gordon wanted to cry, wanted to curl up in a ball and just cry. He couldn't move though, could barely breath.

He knew he wasn't in that hydrofoil. He was in a different one and damn it, it wasn't going to happen again. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. It wasn't working, so he held his breath. Held it for a moment, then a second, and finally he had control again. The wall was still there though and Gordon closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it anymore.

It was still there, burned into his eyelids. He screamed, frustrated. He didn't know what to do. How to get himself out of the situation.

"Listen, Gordon, I'm not a therapist but I want to help." It was Virgil's low calm voice. When had he said this? "If you are ever confused, frustrated, or just don't know what to do. Talk to me. Even if I'm not there, talk to me."

"What good would it be to talk to you if you're not there?"

"Because even if I can't year you, and you can't hear me. I'm here, and here." Virgil was pointing to his chest, and his head. "Whether you want me there or not."

They were floating, up on Five, just days before their first mission.

"What if my brain shuts down, what if I'm the cause of a failed rescue?"

"Just talk. Whatever is going on in your mind, talk it out." Virgil was keeping his distance, but Gordon could tell that he wanted to pull him into a hug. He wasn't too much different from Scott—hugs were therapy in their minds.

"I'm not sure that would work." Gordon pushed himself down to the floor, watching the Earth below them.

"How do you know?"

"I just don't see the point in it."

Virgil just sighed and pushed him down so that he was on the same level as Gordon. "The point is that you're not alone. Never. You have four brothers, a father, a grandmother, and two friends that care about you and want to help. You've done nothing for the past month but push us all away. Hell, I doubt you've even talked to Kayo or Brains."

"I can't let Kayo see me like this, and I made a fool of myself in front of Brains."

"Kayo has seen you." Virgil cracked a bit of a smile. "You really haven't been hiding it all that well."

Gordon groaned. Talking to his brothers was hard enough, how was he supposed to talk to Kayo?

"Hey, that doesn't mean you have to. You don't have to tell anyone. It's your choice."

Gordon wasn't looking at his brother, had his knees pulled up and his head on them still looking down at the world below.

"As for Brains."

Gordon felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up a little. Virgil was just smiling at him, holding out one of their tablets.

"He's been dieing to show you this."

"What is it?" Gordon took the tablet and looked at the schematic displayed. "Is this…"

"New equipment for you, using your ideas. Two tanks on your back, half the size of the current ones. They're small enough that he was able to mount them directly on your utility sash." Virgil was next to him, his face bright with excitement at the new gear. "Your regulator will be attached to your uniform, and be able to snap into your helmet or used directly." He was leaning over and zooming in, pointing out the details as he did. "He loved your idea for putting the sensors and the scrubbers in the hose. Said he would have never thought to do that himself."

"But, he's a genius." Gordon was staring at the schematics blankly. "How could I have an idea better than—than this!" He waved at the station around them.

"Because he's a jack of all trades."

"And a master of all."

Virgil laughed. "Not quite. He has issues sometimes concentrating on one thing. He'll be working on one problem and that will lead to a solution to a different problem elsewhere. He didn't make the birds one at a time, but kind of all at the same time." He took the tablet from Gordon and started flipping through it and brought up his old equipment. "When he was working on your stuff, he was lost. He did research and tried to improve upon it as best as he could, but he really didn't know much about underwater stuff. He had no idea that filter you showed him was as good as it was because it wasn't used outside of marine equipment."

"But four is amazing!"

"Yeah, and it was made more like a space craft than a submarine. He had to do some new stuff to make it withstand the pressure, but—" Virgil just shrugged.

Gordon took the tablet back and flipped back to the new equipment. "I'm still not sure I'm going to be able to do this."

"I know. And doubt is a hard thing to push away."

"How would you know?"

"I have an older brother who is the best pilot on the planet, another one who has regular arguments with scholars in the fields of coding, physics, and space—I swear he just needs to write a few books and they'd stop bugging him. Then I have this awesome little brother who, at the age of sixteen, broke—no, smashed an olympic record that had been untouched for fifty-one years. On top of that I have another little brother who is so smart he doesn't even know where to concentrate his efforts. Hell, he could be another Brains if he would just study a bit more." Virgil looked back over at Gordon and shrugged. "I'm just the middle brother. A plain old mechanical engineer."

Gordon couldn't help but let his mouth drop open. Did he just—did he actually think—was he insane? Gordon jumped to his feet forgetting they were in zero-g and about banged his head into the ceiling. "Are you crazy! You helped build these machines and you think you're just a plain old engineer? Jeez, Virgil, I knew you were dim, but come on. Not only did you graduate top in your class, you are almost on par with Brains when it comes to engineering. Not only that, but you are also a concert pianist and an artist! You've sold art at showings even, and don't think I didn't know about that concert you turned down while I was in the hospital."

The smile of Virgil's lips was small, hesitant and he refused to look up at Gordon as he pushed himself away from the floor. "I sold one painting, and the concert was just a showcase of local talent in Kansas."

"Still more than some people. And you would have sold more and played more if you hadn't held back and went to collage."

"Gordon, this isn't about me."

"Yes it is, it's about both of us." Gordon pushed himself toward Virgil and poked him in the chest. "Do you realize what we're doing? We're both doubting ourselves when in actuality we're both pretty awesome."

"That we are."

Gordon watched as Virgil's smile widened and then couldn't help but laugh as he was pulled into one of Virgil's famous bear hugs.

"Remember though, talk to me. I'll always be there to listen."

Gordon nodded his head and buried it a little in Virgil's chest.

Gordon was cold—he could use one of Virgil's bear hugs about now. He opened his eyes and a wall was in front of him. It was gray like his memory but no rivets. It wasn't the same wall, but a wall none the less. "Virgil? Can you hear me?"

"I'm right here, Gordon."

"You said you would be."

"I don't break promises."

"What happened?"

"The ship hit the seabed, rocky portion to boot. Are you still inside?"

"Yeah, stuck, I think."

"Are you okay?"

Gordon took a moment to check. He could feel his feet—a bit of anxiety released with that realization. He could feel all of his limbs, and he could breath, he wasn't pinned, but he was stuck. "I'm okay, I think. I can wiggle around, but it's a tight squeeze and I can't get a good hold on anything to pull myself with."

"Alright, just hold on, someone is coming in to get you."

"Who?" Gordon stopped moving and looked up as if he'd be able to see his brother by doing so.

"One of the crew members has volunteered to go back in."

"Are they crazy?"

"About as crazy as you. Plus he said something about you not dying like this. That it can't happen. Did you know one of them?"

"One of them knows me, but I don't know how."

"Well he looks up to you, should be getting close to you by now."

Gordon looked up as a light flashed across what was left of the corridor. "Hey, over here!"

"Thank goodness. The guy above said you were still alive but you didn't answer him for a long time. We were all getting worried." He was decked out in some of the extra gear that was stored in his bird, a cutting torch on his shoulder.

"Don't. Even if I didn't make it, they could have brought Four back up remotely." Gordon was smiling at the young man, curiosity burning in him as to why he knew him.

"No, it wasn't that. It was you. You survived the last hydrofoil crash. It wouldn't be right for you not to survive this one." His smile faded as he looked around Gordon to take in his situation.

"What are they teaching you at WASP now? For all I know, I could have been the cause of it."

"No, you weren't." There was determination in his eyes at that and Gordon couldn't help but quiet down and listen. "There was something that got caught in one of the rudders that caused cascading errors throughout the ship."

"How do you—"

"It was one of the first things I looked up when I joined." He pulled the cutting torch up next to him, his target chosen. "My sister was on the bridge with you when it happened."

"Your—Cindy?"

"Yeah, she was an awesome big sis."

"Look, I'm sorry. There wasn't—"

"Hey, I don't blame you. I'm sure you were both doing all you could to keep it from happening." He had started up the torch and was slowly cutting through one of the supports that had trapped Gordon.

"It still may be my fault. She was just about to cut the engines—the emergency breaks, let us slow down on our own, but I had her wait a second. I wanted to try something, but—"

The metal broke away and he held his hand out to Gordon. "You saved six people, then."

Gordon took his hand and was able to pull himself out of the tight space. He still had the young man's hand, but was looking at him, searching, trying to find the lie in the statement.

"The engine was overheating. Had she hit the breaks the whole ship would have exploded. Then, no one would have survived."

Gordon was still staring, he knew he had to be lying. There was no way a cadet would have access to that knowledge. The creak of the ship around them brought Gordon out of his own mind. "We need to talk, but first let's get out of here."

He nodded and led the way. They made their way safely out to Four and boarded the sub. Once Gordon was sure his passengers were safe and secure he took off for the surface, docking with the module.

They were on their way to land—WASP officials were not happy with what Gordon had done, and were apparently arguing with their father about his actions. Gordon had other things on his mind. Five of the trapped crew members were in the med bay taking care of their own minor injuries. Gordon had brought the young man who had helped him to the cockpit to get answers from him.

Gordon sat down with a groan which received sharp look from Virgil, but Gordon held up his hand and motioned for the young man to sit down. "How do you know what happened on the hydrofoil? The accident report was sealed."

"One of the captains knew who I was. He knew Cindy was my sister."

"Wait, Cindy? The girl you were flirt—"

"One in the same." Gordon glared at Virgil. "Go on."

"He caught me trying to hack into the system. Instead of punishing me, he accessed the file and let me read it." He was sitting behind Virgil, wringing his hands. "I read it probably a dozen times or more. I tried to memorize as much as I could. It was good to know it was nothing she had done, that she hadn't caused the crash. That was when I found out about you. I mean, I knew someone else was on the bridge as well, but didn't have a name."

"So the crash wasn't caused by anyone on the bridge?" Virgil was staring straight forward, and Gordon could see his hands tighten on the yoke.

"No. It was an accident."

Gordon let out the breath he had been holding, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a bit. He could see Virgil's shoulders slacken a little as well. "Did you join WASP just to find the report?"

"It was part of the reason, but I also wanted to continue my sister's dream. She wanted to help people, to do good in the world. Now, though, I'm not sure I trust WASP."

"I know how that feels." Gordon rolled his eyes.

"We're approaching WASP base and they are begrudgingly letting us land. I hope they don't take what we did out on you." Virgil flashed a smile back at the young man.

"Yeah, knowing them they could get all mad at you for letting yourselves be rescued against orders." Gordon laughed and was glad when the kid laughed right back.

They were all back on the island, sitting in the lounge, and looking at their father. Gordon was tense. He wasn't sure what his punishment would be for defying orders, wasn't sure what his father had to deal with because of his own actions, but he was sure that it had been stressful—he could see it still on his father's face.

"Gordon."

Gordon jumped a little at his name, but took in a deep breath and stood up to face his father. It had been his decision and he would take the consequences that came with it. "Yes, sir."

"You went silent for ten minutes during the rescue. Explain."

That wasn't the question he had been expecting, but took in a breath and answered anyways. "When the ship crashed on the sea bed I became trapped. That trigged memories from my accident. I couldn't move from fear, and had trouble breathing."

"I cannot afford for this to happen if it is poss—"

"I know." Gordon took in a deep breath. Interrupting his father was never a good idea, but he just nodded his head, allowing him to continue. Gordon quickly looked over at Virgil and then Scott, each brother nodded at him in encouragement. "Just talk. That was what Virgil told me to do. That's what I did. Had I not started to talk, I don't think I would have come out of it. I just started talking to Virgil, telling him what was going on and I was able to bring myself back to the situation at hand. I can't guarantee that it won't ever happen again, but as long as I just talk, and allow Virgil, or Alan, or Scott, or even John to ground me, I think it will be okay."

"I imagine it had a lot to do with this particular situation." Virgil was at his shoulder, always there to back him up.

"Yeah, I was a bit nervous going into the rescue as well, but I couldn't just let them die."

"I think you and Virgil have found a good solution to your issue, but if it ever gets worse again, you have to promise to let me know, let all of us know."

"I don't think that will be an issue, but if it is, I will let you know."

"I'm glad to hear it." His father smiled at him and pushed himself away from the desk. "How bout dinner, I'm starving."

Gordon blinked, his shoulders still tense. "Aren't I going to be punished? I went against orders."

"You did exactly what I would have done. You save the crew, and yes, WASP is a little peeved at us, but they're not pressing charges so, you got off this time." His father smiled as he passed him heading for the stairs.

Gordon could feel his muscles relax and slumped a little. He could sense Virgil still standing behind him, and didn't resist when he pulled him into a hug.

"You had me worried for a bit."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You were awesome out there." He let go and went to follow their father down to the kitchen.

"Gordon." Scott was still standing by their father's desk but took the few steps down into the sitting area putting a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "We wouldn't have been able to save them if you hadn't been there."

"I'm sure Virgil or Alan—"

"No. You were meant to be part of this organization, and this is proof of that." Scott pulled him into a quick tight hug. "If your mind ever wants you to think differently, let me know. I'll kick it back in gear."

"Right. Thanks." Gordon couldn't help but smile a little as his brother let him go and headed downstairs as well.

"Gordon."

Gordon jumped, he hadn't realized that John was still floating behind him. "You too?"

"Is that bad?"

"Nah." Gordon shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the floor.  
"Don't be ashamed, you were a professional out there. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Gordon looked up and smiled at John who gave him a little salute before disappearing.

"Gordon?"

"You too squirt? You weren't even on the rescue." Gordon turned to where Alan was still sitting, his knees drawn up to his chest.

"We really are doing dangerous work, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but I'm not ready to make friends with death just yet. We'll save thousands—no millions of people before any one of us leaves." Gordon reached over and ruffled Alan's hair. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

They both stood and started toward the stairs that headed into the kitchen, but where stopped by the rest of their family making their way back to the top.

"Alright, John, bring up the information." Their father was at his desk again, a map displayed over the table.

"The earthquake was a 7.0, and while many of the taller buildings seem to have withstood the tremor there are many buildings that are over a hundred years old that did not." John was hovering next to the map, updating the imagery as the information became available.

"Have you made offers for help yet?" Scott was once again by their father's desk, his arms crossed.

"Yes, but they think they can handle it at the mom—whoa, that's not good." John's eyes widened as he read the new information.

"What is it?" Gordon and Alan had walked back down to the couches to sit and listen.

"There is a twenty-five meter tsunami heading straight for the coast along Chiba prefecture. I'm getting requests from several local authorities asking for assistance. They don't think they'll be able to evacuate everyone in time."

Their father stood up and clapped his hands together. "Alright boys! Everyone head out. Thunderbirds are go!"


End file.
